Rediscovering Old Skills
by Soap1
Summary: Hermione's relationship with Ron doesn't work out, and in her new-found freedom and independence, she decides to sign up for a self defense class. But who should she meet there but her old Hogwarts nemesis, Draco Malfoy? D/H. Rated M for smut.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well, this one popped into my head and would NOT leave me alone, despite the fact that it's been years since I started up a new fic. I've written quite a bit on it already. I don't imagine it will be too long – maybe 10-12 chapters? Hopefully you'll like it. Let me know if you do!

CHAPTER 1

The Floo lit up at the Potter residence, making Harry, Ginny, and their three children look up. Harry had his hand on his wand; even though it had been a decade since the last Dark Wizard had been apprehended, he still couldn't help that instantaneous reaction. He was a fully trained Auror now, head of the department, and could never really turn that off.

Two kids stepped through the fireplace, and he softened immediately.

"Hey, Rosie. Hugo," said Harry. "What's going on?"

Rose Weasley, twelve years old and the only Weasley without red hair, stepped out of the fireplace, dusting off her robes, and Hugo followed afterward, his red head lightly coated with soot.

"Just Mum and Dad are at it again," said Rose, sounding sad yet a bit impatient or annoyed.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other knowingly. Hermione and Ron had always had a virulent relationship, that hadn't stopped, but they both wished the kids weren't involved with it all.

"Any wands drawn?" asked Harry.

"Not yet," said Rose quietly.

Harry pulled an arm around her shoulder.

"They fight, I know," he said. "You should have seen them back at Hogwarts. They never let up. I know it's hard to listen to it, but it has nothing to do with you two. They love you."

"We know," Rose said.

((()))

"You just never listen to me!" shouted Hermione. "You're never around to help with the children! All summer, nothing. Always at work or with Harry. What did you expect? That I would just be willing to wait until after the children go to school to see you?"

"It's not as though you've been around forever. You've gone off and done things," Ron replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" spat Hermione.

"Don't be all innocent. I know you had an affair!" shouted Ron.

Hermione pulled herself up to her greatest height, her brown eyes blazing with fury and her jaw set hard.

"An affair?" she asked, her voice crackling with anger.

"An emotional affair!" he yelled.

"Since when do you even know what an emotional affair is?" shouted Hermione.

"I'm not stupid," Ron said angrily. "A couple of years ago, back when you were spending all that time with Desmond-"

"Who was my mentor in my job!" interrupted Hermione.

"You were never around! You were distant and barely paid attention to the kids! It was an emotional affair!" Ron said.

Hermione stared hard at him.

"So that gives you justification to do whatever you like now? Because I spent a lot of time learning how to do my job two years ago?" she said.

"I just think maybe we got into this too fast," Ron said.

"Too fast? Too fast? Isn't it a little late to say too fast?" Hermione shrieked. "Look around, Ron! We have two children! They're leaving for the second year at Hogwarts tomorrow! We've been married almost 14 years!"

"Yes, and how old were we when we got married?" Ron replied.

"Nineteen! I know! I was young, too. But your sister was only 17 when she married Harry, hell, she was pregnant with James before we even set a wedding date!" Hermione cried. "Everyone was getting married right away, that was just what we all did after the war was over. And you don't see everyone else screaming and shouting and saying that it all happened too fast!"

"I just never got to experience anyone else besides you!" he said.

"Oh, Lavender Brown wasn't anyone else?" Hermione spat acidly.

"Lavender Brown? You're really gonna bring up Lavender Brown? That was fifteen years ago, Hermione," Ron said, annoyed.

They stared at each other, not sure what else to say, both breathing heavily. They had always fought, since they'd met at Hogwarts twenty years earlier. Hermione loved Ron very much, but he wasn't wrong about the emotional affair. She'd gotten close to her coworker, someone who shared her interests, her intellect, her goals, but as soon as she'd realized she was distancing herself from her husband, she'd cut things off and gotten a different job. Still, Ron had never called it an emotional affair before. Who had he been talking to?

"I'm just saying I never did anything but you. I never did anyONE but you," he said, and Hermione winced at his choice of words. "And you aren't totally innocent. You had an emotional affair."

"Okay," she said slowly, wondering where this was going.

"And the thing is, Hermione," Ron began, his face beginning to redden and turn the same color as his hair. "I want to . . . I've . . . Maybe we should get a divorce."

"A divorce? You want to get a divorce?" Hermione said, blindsided. Sure, they fought. They fought every damn day of their lives, mostly just bickering but at least once a week they had a screaming blowout. They'd even thrown some hexes the week prior. But a divorce? That was the last thing she ever expected good old dependable Ron to suggest.

"You see, I've met someone-"

"You're having an affair?" screamed Hermione, drawing her wand in an instant and hitting him with a hex that broke his nose.

"It's not like that, Hermione!"

"Then what's it like?" she shrieked.

"It's just that I finally met someone who doesn't scream at me every day!" he roared, spitting blood from his nose onto the floor. "Someone who thinks I'm smart and interesting and that everything I do and say isn't wrong!"

"So is that where you've been all summer?"

"Not ALL summer," he said, and Hermione roared into action once again, hitting him with some well placed hexes that would leave bruises for weeks. She even managed to get a rib while she was at it, leaving him gasping for breath.

"STOP! STOP! STOP!" shouted Ron, and he finally drew his wand and cast a Shield Charm that sent Hermione's last hex, a body bind, right back at her, and she fell immobile to the floor. Ron walked over to her and stood above her.

"It's not that I don't love you," he began, and Hermione's eyes lit up with fire. "And it's certainly not that I don't love the kids. I love them more than anything. But this marriage isn't working. It never has. I'm going to file the paperwork at the Ministry after we drop the kids off at Platform 9 ¾."

With that, Ron summoned a bag, one he had clearly already packed ready to go, and walked out the door, casting the countercurse just before he Apparated away.

Hermione stood slowly, mostly furious but also in disbelief about what had just happened. It wasn't that Hermione had never contemplated divorce. Merlin, she had thought about divorcing Ron just about every day of their marriage. He was an excellent father, loving, caring, doting, amazing in every way, but as a husband, he failed miserably. They shared very little in terms of goals or ambitions, his ability to provide for their family was negligible at best and they survived mostly on Hermione's own salary and on the fund that the Ministry provided to Harry, Hermione, and Ron at the war's end – sort of a "thanks for defeating Voldemort and sorry for all the trouble" account, and that fund was running thin. Even her sex life with Ron was disappointing – she still sometimes wondered how Hugo managed to be conceived at all.

But she'd never in her wildest dreams imagined that Ron would be the one to find someone else, to file to divorce and leave their marriage in the dust. She'd always figured that would be her. She didn't really have it in her to feel sad about the dissolution of her marriage: it was a long time coming, really. She was actually more annoyed that she hadn't been the one to leave him first. With an angry sigh, she gathered up a few things and Flooed to Harry and Ginny's, where Rose and Hugo always went during their parents' fights.

((()))

Draco Malfoy was putting his things away in his bag after a grueling session at the studio. He was a member of an elite dueling club, an organization that trained witches and wizards (though, mostly wizards) in the finer points of fighting: everything from basic jinxes and hexes to Dark curses to some forms of physical fighting. As each fighter moved up the ranks and mastered more and more difficult spells, his or her wand carried an engraving of a different magical creature, a more dangerous creature for each higher level. Draco's wand currently bore an engraving of a Manticore, the second highest level in training. He was one of only a few dozen that had mastered this level of fighting, and there were fewer than five wizards in Great Britain who had bore the engraving of the highest level, the dragon.

But that level of skill still eluded him, despite years of training. He had been able to skip the first few levels based only on the skills he had learned as a Death Eater. He absently rubbed the Mark on his left arm. It still hadn't faded, a constant reminder of whose side he had been on.

Now that he had more time to practice, he was progressing up the ranks faster. He had mastered the Manticore level of fighting in record time, so it was just a matter of practice. Endless practice. And with his current schedule, that worked out fine for him.

He shared custody of twelve year old Scorpius with his ex-wife, Astoria. Why had he married her in the first place? He honestly had no idea. Everyone was getting married, and in the rush to fit in, to assimilate with society, to keep up appearances as a reformed Death Eater, he had just joined the masses and proposed to the first gorgeous woman he'd taken out on a date. Astoria was certainly gorgeous: blonde hair, cool blue eyes, aristocratic features. She was pureblood as well; he hadn't been able to shake a lifetime's prejudice just yet. They were a good match and had produced good offspring. Scorpius was a smart, handsome boy. Draco missed seeing his son every day. He currently only had custody every other weekend, and once Scorpius boarded the Hogwarts Express, he was unlikely to see him again until the school year ended. That thought sent a wrench into his heart, so Draco had just been focusing on his training.

But tomorrow he would be meeting his son and his ex-wife at King's Cross to see Scorpius off to Hogwarts for his second year. That was going to be awkward. Draco hadn't wanted his marriage to end, but about a week after Scorpius had left for Hogwarts for the first time, Draco and Astoria had realized that there was absolutely nothing holding their marriage together besides their son. They had nothing in common and were barely able to find anything to talk about besides occasionally commenting how pleased they were to have Scorpius sorted into Slytherin. Astoria had filed for divorce a month later, and she was now dating some other rich thirty-something, only this one didn't have a Death Eater tattoo on his arm.

The divorce hadn't been good for him. Draco's grasp on trust, respect, and love had been tenuous at best given his upbringing. His parents certainly had never modeled a loving relationship, though they were still married, living in Malfoy Manor and likely never even glimpsing one another in the spacious halls. He'd never really dated anyone at Hogwarts; certainly there had been plenty of girls who'd jumped into his bed at first opportunity, but Draco had never allowed himself to be close to anyone. Not friends, family, teachers, anyone. Astoria had been the closest he'd ever come to loving someone, though he had never really known how to show it. He'd kept his distance with her. That was what she'd said when they divorced: he always seemed cold, dark, distant. He was a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. What had she expected from him?

He tried not to dwell on it.

Draco Apparated to his posh London flat. After the divorce, Astoria had gotten the house, a beautiful manor near Cambridge, so Draco was left to find a place to live. He decided to go for something modern, something trendy. It wasn't as if money was a problem. All Malfoy holdings belonged to him, given his father's trial and subsequent conviction after the war. Lucius Malfoy had served two years in Azkaban followed by a lengthy probation, so every last galleon technically belonged to Draco. It wasn't as if his parents went wanting, of course. Draco saw to it that they had everything they might possibly want.

His flat was sparse but well appointed. Low couches, subdued lighting, a few portraits on the wall to keep him company when things got lonely. His great grandfather Marius Malfoy hung in the main living area, a portrait painted when he was just around Draco's age, white-blonde hair, piercing grey eyes, handsome features, and an aristocrat's drawl.

"Still wasting time in the dueling club, I see," said the portrait haughtily.

"What else am I to do with my time?" answered Draco.

"What sort of Malfoy spends his time play-fighting when there are real fights to be had?" asked Great Grandfather Marius.

"What sort of real fights?" Draco said with a humorless chuckle. "Something to get me thrown into Azkaban? The Malfoys are still on thin ice as it is."

"Nonsense!" cried Marius. "The Malfoys are among the oldest and most powerful pureblood wizarding families in the entire wizarding world! Our bloodlines date back centuries . . ."

Draco left the room as Marius trailed off into a genealogical history of the entire Malfoy clan, dating back to the Etruscans. He slipped away to his bedroom, not in the mood to remind his great grandfather once again that blood status simply didn't matter the way it once did, however frustrating that reality might be.

Draco cast a spell with his wand to check the time. The hour appeared in the air in glittering letters for a moment. Late. Past dinner, and he would have to be awake extra early to meet Astoria at Platform 9 ¾ and ensure he got to wish Scorpius well before he boarded the train. It would be just like her to shove their son into a compartment before Draco even had a chance to see him. Exhausted, he took a long, hot shower and crawled into bed.

((()))

"He's filing for divorce," whispered Hermione.

"What?" Ginny cried.

"Shh! Don't wake the kids!" Hermione admonished. "He told me today. Said he'd met someone else . . ."

"Oh, I'll kill him," said Ginny. "It's been way too long since I've given one of my brothers a good hex. My Bat Bogey is getting a little rusty."

"It's okay," said Hermione, waving her hand. "I'm not upset."

"Not upset? How can you not be upset? He's cheating on you!" Ginny said.

"Shh!"

"I'm just saying, if I found out Harry had a woman on the side, he'd lose any body part he put into her," Ginny said matter-of-factly.

"I heard that," said Harry, bringing a beer and two glasses of wine into the room. "Duly noted."

Hermione just shrugged.

"It's been a long time coming," said Hermione. "I just don't know what to tell the kids."

"I talked to them earlier. Told them it would work out right," said Harry. "Maybe it's a good thing they go to Hogwarts tomorrow. Give you and Ron a chance to figure things out before they come back."

"Figure what out? How to get a divorce? Then Rose and Hugo come home for the holidays and we say, 'Guess what kids? We're splitting up Christmas this year!'" Hermione said.

Harry and Ginny didn't quite know how to respond.

"I'll stay here tonight if it's all right with you," Hermione added.

Neither Harry nor Ginny protested, so Hermione traipsed up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

The next morning came early with Rose and Lily bounding down the stairs, clothes and hair ready, trunks packed. Hugo, James, and Albus were a little slower to rouse, but eventually they managed to get all five children ready to go. It was Hugo's first year to Hogwarts, so James (being the oldest) took it upon himself to teach him how to go through barrier to the platform, though not before telling him that a troll awaited them on the other side for First Years. Hugo knew James's propensity for teasing, but he stole a glance at his mother just to be sure, and when she rolled her eyes and shook her head, Hugo seemed much more confident.

"Where's Dad?" asked Rose when they were all standing around the platform.

"No idea," said Hermione, hoping to avoid the subject all together.

"There he is! Hey, Uncle Ron!" called James.

"Who's that with him?" Rose asked.

At that, Hermione's eyes snapped up in the direction James was pointing and her jaw dropped.

"Oh, Ronald, have you completely lost your mind?" Ginny muttered beside her.

"Ginny, do something about this," said Hermione through gritted teeth, "or else I might kill him."

Sure enough, Ron Weasley was strutting along the platform with a petite blonde twenty-something in tow, completely oblivious to how totally and insanely inappropriate this would be. Hermione was seething in rage, but trying to hold it together for the kids.

"Who is that, Mum?" asked Rose, ever the curious one.

"One of Dad's friends, I guess," Hermione said, desperately attempting to keep the venom from her voice.

Ginny and Harry had both caught Ron and stopped him before he could get close. Hermione could tell they were having some kind of argument, though Ron as usual seemed totally oblivious to why he perhaps shouldn't bring a new girlfriend to see his kids off to Hogwarts when the children had no idea their parents might be divorcing. After what was clearly some reasoning from Harry and threatening from Ginny, Ron patted the blonde's shoulder and left her behind as he trotted up to see the kids.

"Dad!" said Hugo. "I was afraid you'd miss the train!"

"I would never!" said Ron, smiling.

He glanced up at Hermione but seemed oblivious to the daggers in her gaze. Must be a benefit of divorcing your wife: her evil eye no longer has an effect. Ron and Hermione managed to get the children onto the Hogwarts Express without saying a single word to each other. It wasn't until the big red train was completely out of sight that Hermione rounded on him.

"You brought your girlfriend to Platform 9 ¾ to see MY CHILDREN off to school?" she shrieked.

"I wanted them to meet her!" Ron cried.

"Ron, you're a world class idiot," said Ginny.

"I hope you've gotten your things out of the house. You aren't welcome there any longer," snipped Hermione.

"No worries. It's done," said Ron.

"Fine," she said.

"Fine."

They stared at each other until they finally stormed off in opposite directions.

((()))

"Another year at Hogwarts," said Astoria.

Draco made a noise that he hoped sounded interested and polite, but probably came out more like defeated.

"I'll be taking Scorpius to Ireland for Christmas," she continued.

That hurt.

"Can't he spend Christmas Eve with me?" he asked.

"What, let him Floo across the Irish Sea? You know how dangerous it can be to take a Floo connection over open water. By himself? No chance," Astoria snapped.

"I'll Apparate and come get him," offered Draco.

"My parents won't want you at their house."

"I'll Apparate to Belfast and you can meet me there," he pressed.

"Belfast?" she scoffed. "That's a pretty far trip for me to take."

"Randalstown then," he said.

She just gave him a look.

"You can Apparate anywhere in the entire world in an instant, woman. Please let me see my son on Christmas Eve," pleaded Draco.

"We'll see," said Astoria.

Archaic custody laws and a general prejudice against the Malfoy name meant Draco had no other choice. Draco shook his head and stalked away, a foul mood descending like a cloud around him, and of course, he caught a glimpse of Harry Potter on the far end of the platform. Seeing that face on the best of days could put a bad taste in Draco's mouth, so on a day like today, it just sent him over the edge. Without a thought, he whipped out his wand a cast a hex at a trash can, making its contents explode into the air as Draco continued his angry stride toward the exit.

"Excuse me, sir," came a voice.

Draco stopped and dropped his head, rolling his eyes in annoyance both at himself for his momentary loss of control and for the guard at the platform who'd stopped him.

"Just give me a fine," said Draco wearily, turning to the guard.

The guard seemed a bit taken aback once he realized it was Draco Malfoy he spoke to, his eyes darting down to Draco's left arm automatically. When it seemed the guard wasn't going to move, Draco reached in his pocket and grabbed a couple of galleons, tossing them at the guard's feet.

"That should cover it," he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Hermione found herself at the Potters'. Things were so quiet at home with no kids and no Ron. She hadn't heard a word from him, other than the divorce papers that had been delivered by owl, yet strangely she found she barely cared. Sure, it was lonely. She didn't have someone to dump all her thoughts onto anymore, which is why she had Flooed to the Potters' house as soon as work allowed.

"How are you doing?" asked Ginny.

"Oh, fine, actually," said Hermione. "So busy at work."

"Good," she responded, handing Hermione a full glass of red wine.

"How are things with you?" Hermione asked, unsure how to talk to Ginny. After all, she was in the process of divorcing her brother.

"Oh, fine," Ginny said awkwardly.

They both sipped wine for a moment, uncertain of what to say.

"Hermione, I have to talk about Ron's new girlfriend. Is that horribly inappropriate?" asked Ginny suddenly.

Hermione laughed.

"Please do!"

"It's just so bizarre!" Ginny said animatedly. "He's just started bringing her round like nothing's unusual about it! Mum doesn't know what to do, but you know how she is. She just sets another place at the table and goes about her way. Ron doesn't mention you at all, he talks about the kids. I guess they send him letters-"

"They send the letters home, I forward them on when I feel like it," Hermione interrupted.

Ginny gave her a quick sly grin.

"I don't blame you. He's being insufferable, and everything is just so awkward," Ginny said.

"What's her name?"

"Wendi with an 'i'," said Ginny with an eye roll.

"Of course it is," said Hermione, giggling into her wine glass.

They both paused to take drinks.

"Does it bother you? Are you upset?" asked Ginny seriously.

Hermione took a deep breath. She wasn't sure, really. It did hurt to know that Ron could move on so quickly, that he expected everyone in his family to move on so quickly. To know that the entire past summer their marriage had been a sham, that he'd come home to her after sleeping with Wendi (with an 'i') and try to get her in the mood? At least she had never given in to his pathetic attempts at seduction. Yes, it was true. She hadn't had sex with Ron in ten months. Come to think of it, she wasn't all that surprised he'd gone looking for it somewhere else. _Better Wendi than me_, thought Hermione.

"No," said Hermione honestly, and then she sighed. "I'm only worried about the kids. I'm not sure what Rose and Hugo will say, how this will affect them. I don't want Ron parading a bunch of blonde twenty year olds through their lives."

"He won't," said Ginny. "Even Mum wouldn't let him get away with that."

"Wouldn't let what?" said Harry, entering the room for the first time.

"Hello, Harry. How's work?" asked Hermione.

"Not too busy. Auror work is dull without Voldemort around," he said cheerily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry grabbed a beer and tapped it with his wand to chill it.

"We were just talking," said Ginny. "About Ron and . . . you know."

"Oh," said Harry, his expression dropping a bit. "She's really insufferable, Hermione. Empty in the head. How's it at the house? Without him there?"

"It's great, actually," said Hermione. "No one leaving dirty underwear around."

Ginny grimaced at the visual.

"But I do feel . . . I don't know, a little less safe," confessed Hermione. "I know how to defend myself, I know plenty of spells, but I still worry. What if someone broke in?"

"You've got wards, right?" said Harry.

"Yes, all the usual. Not sure what I'm worried about, really. I guess I'm just rusty since the old days. Since Dumbledore's Army," said Hermione with a smile.

Harry and Ginny smiled too.

"Well, take a class or something," Harry offered, taking a long swig of beer. "There are self defense programmes all over London. Just sign up."

Hermione cocked her head to one side, considering the suggestion. It might be nice to brush up on all those skills she'd let lapse since Hogwarts. Without Voldemort and the Death Eaters looming over everyone's heads, she hadn't really needed to keep up her skills, and unlike Harry and Ron's career choices as Aurors, her own job as a Ministry librarian required significantly less defense practice. It might be fun to relive the Dumbledore's Army days, refine her cursing and hexing skills. Particularly if Ron decided to keep bringing skinny blondes around . . .

"That's actually a really good idea, Harry," said Hermione.

"Great," said Harry, taking another swig and leaving the room.

Ginny shrugged and the girls poured more wine and continued to gossip the rest of the night away.

The next morning, Hermione decided to take Harry up on his suggestion and find a place nearby to brush up on her defense skills. Her home with Ron was just north of London, so she scanned the Daily Prophet for possible classes. She found one dueling club just a few Floo hops away, so with a handful of Floo powder, she stuck her head in the fireplace.

"Hello?" Hermione said, her head in the flames at the dueling club while the rest of her body crouched uncomfortably on the floor at home.

"Yes?" said a tall, handsome wizard.

"My name is Hermione Weasley – er – uh, Granger," Hermione stammered. "I'm inquiring about the dueling club?"

"You've found us. Interested in learning some fighting techniques?" the man asked.

"Well, yes, I suppose so-"

"Come on, then. We offer a free trial for new members. There's a class in an hour," he said.

"I'm a bit rusty, and I wanted-," she said.

"It's for all levels, beginners to experts. Come on out and we'll get you started," he said. "See you in an hour."

And with that, Hermione found herself back in her living room, the fire changing from green back to its usual orange. That seemed to happen awfully fast; Hermione had only meant to ask what the club was about, the kinds of skills she would learn. She wanted to talk about her past history and experience fighting Dark Wizards during the war so she could determine if the club was right for her. She was not particularly fond of jumping right into things, but she shrugged and decided to just go ahead and do it. Why not? It wasn't as though she had to answer to anyone. She was a free woman.

Unsure of how to dress for a dueling class, Hermione threw on some Muggle workout clothes: black leggings and a comfortable but form-fitting shirt, just in case a lot of movement was needed. She pulled a set of wizard's robes around her shoulders, though, for she didn't want to be the only odd one in Muggle clothing. It was true that being Muggleborn did not have the same connotation that it had in her younger days, but it was best not to call attention to the fact that she was just as comfortable in Muggle workout gear as she was in robes.

When she was finally ready, she tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace and felt the familiar spinning until she ended up at the dueling club. She glanced around the large open space, walls lined with mirrors, and saw about a dozen men of varying ages and levels of attractiveness, but they all shared one trait: they were extremely fit. Oh yes, this is exactly what she needed. The men were all dressed in Muggle workout clothes, so she removed her robes quickly, feeling a bit nervous and out of place.

Hermione was relieved to see two women in the class. They looked to be close to her age, early thirties, and seemed to be good friends. One was tall and lanky, a bit awkward looking if Hermione said so herself, and the other was shorter and stockier. They didn't seem quite as pleased to see her in the class. Hermione allowed herself to assume it was because she was just more attractive than they were, and thus, would take away the attention of the good looking men in the class. Yes, despite birthing two children, Hermione's body still looked pretty good, if she said so herself. Nursing had left her breasts fuller, and a lot of exercise had let her abs retain some of their original shape at least. The two women in the class were pointedly ignoring Hermione, so she ignored them as well and set to stretching.

She heard the door to the studio open and glanced up to see the instructor she had spoken to earlier walk in, but when the saw the man walking in behind him, Hermione nearly choked.

Draco Malfoy. And when his eyes scanned the class, they met hers. Other than a brief moment where he held her gaze, Malfoy gave no other reaction to seeing his Hogwarts nemesis in the class. Years had passed since all the animosity, and with children the same age, Hermione had gotten used to hearing the Malfoy name and even seeing him from time to time, but that certainly didn't mean they were friendly.

"Let's get started," said the instructor. "Today we'll be working on a critical skill in self defense: how to react if your opponent has disarmed you and has you on the ground. It's not a position you ever want to get into, but we need to practice what we'd do to get out of it. Want to help me demonstrate, Malfoy?"

Malfoy nodded. The instructor dropped his wand and got on the floor on his back. Malfoy assumed a position on top of him, straddling the instructor's abdomen with his wand pointed at the instructor's face. Hermione felt a bit uncomfortable, but as she looked around, none of the other students seemed to find this unusual. She supposed that learning to defense oneself occasionally involved compromising positions.

"As you can see," said the instructor, "Malfoy has me pinned. I could use a wandless to get away, but since we've got all skill levels here, I'm going to show you how to escape this situation without using a wandless spell."

That was good, Hermione thought. She hadn't done a wandless spell since Hogwarts.

"What I would do here is buck my hips to force my opponent to fall forward, using his hands to balance himself on the ground and therefore losing the ability to cast a spell," said the instructor.

He demonstrated, bucking his hips, and Malfoy fell forward as predicted. Hermione tried not to act like a twelve year old about the whole situation.

"Then, I'll use my hand and foot to trap my opponent's arm and leg, then use momentum to roll him over," the instructor said, "giving me a chance to pin his wrists and keep his wand arm under my control."

In a flash, the instructor had Malfoy on his back, wand hand pinned. It looked so simple. The two men stood, Malfoy brushing off his Muggle-style track pants and straightening his shirt.

"Let's pair up," said the instructor.

Hermione looked to the two women in the class, but they had immediately paired together and were beginning to practice. The instructor looked over at Hermione and smiled.

"Glad you made it. You're new, so I'm going to pair you with someone a bit more experienced to help you learn," he said.

"Thanks," said Hermione.

"Malfoy?" the instructor said.

Hermione blanched. She was going to learn THAT move with Malfoy? Malfoy did his best to hide an eye roll, but Hermione still saw it, and because of that, she resolved to act professionally and learn quickly. She would demonstrate the maturity that he obviously lacked.

The instructor had already moved on to help guide the students in the class, and Hermione was left standing with Malfoy.

"Weasley," said Malfoy, his best attempt at a greeting.

"Granger," replied Hermione.

Malfoy just raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, let's get to it, then," he said.

Without any further discussion, Malfoy prostrated himself on the ground, looking at her expectantly. Hermione fought a blush. How could he be so professional about this?

"Look, I know this is uncomfortable for women, but I do this all day," said Malfoy impatiently. "If you want to learn, let's get started."

Hermione took a quick breath and straddled him, cautiously keeping her weight above him. She was very aware that she was wearing skin-tight leggings and he had on loose fitting workout pants. Hermione was hovering about an inch above Malfoy.

"Say we were really in a fight right now," said Malfoy. "If you're like that, how easy would it be for me to knock you off your balance and trap you?"

"Easy," said Hermione weakly.

Malfoy nodded, and Hermione sunk down onto him. She was straddling him properly now, and doing her best not to think about what body parts she was sitting on. She hadn't been this close to a man besides Ron in over a decade.

"Do you remember the demonstration?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione nodded. "I'll show you how it's done, then you can practice."

Describing his actions as he went through the motions step-by-step, Malfoy first bucked his hips, knocking her forward with a hand on either side of his head. Then he quickly trapped her left hand and foot and rolled over, grabbing her wrist as he did and ending up on top of her and in a very dominant position between her legs. Hermione was already beginning to sweat.

"Got it?" asked Malfoy, seemingly unfazed by the position they'd found themselves in.

Hermione nodded.

"Good. Your turn," he said.

Malfoy maneuvered so that he was straddling her this time. He was a patient teacher, showing her exactly how to curve her wrist to keep him from breaking her hold. Though she was significantly smaller than he was, he taught her to use her shoulder to get enough momentum to flip him onto his back, then added a quick lesson that the instructor hadn't taught – to grab his wand and be ready to use it. He was quite professional about the whole situation, minus a couple of barbs he tossed at her here and there.

"Exactly," said Malfoy with a smirk. "Don't be afraid to get aggressive. Pretend I'm that useless ex-husband of yours."

Hermione couldn't even bring herself to be offended, and she had to stop herself from smirking back.

Hermione had just straddled Malfoy to practice again when the instructor paused the class to provide a few additional tips. This pause in the action forced Hermione to realize for the first time how close she was, and what parts of Malfoy's body she could feel against her own. In fact, she was feeling them fairly well. She couldn't be certain; after all, it had been ten month since she'd even had sex, but she was beginning to think that all this wrestling was having a bit of an effect on Malfoy. She was momentarily repulsed, but it took only a couple of seconds for her heart to begin racing. Malfoy was not an unattractive man. He'd grown into his sharp features, and apparently all the dueling he'd been doing was keeping him in extremely good shape. He was taut and muscular underneath those Muggle clothes. Hermione's mind drifted away from the instructor's tips and zeroed in on the very subtle hardness she was beginning to feel in Malfoy's pants.

The instructor had stopped giving advice and the other pairs had gone back to their practice. Malfoy looked at her expectantly, and as he was totally ignoring the effect she might be having on him, Hermione took it as a cue to ignore it as well. After all, when a man wrestles around on the floor with a woman straddling him, it was probably unavoidable that certain body parts reacted, with or without their owners' permission.

It was relatively easy to get back into the swing of practice, but she still couldn't help but get a little hot around the collar.

"Think about it, Granger," said Malfoy as he showed her techniques for getting away when her hands were pinned above her head. "This is a valuable skill for a woman to learn. Merlin forbid you ever find yourself in this situation, but if you did, you could use any force necessary. There's no reason a man should ever have you in a position like this, excepting in this classroom."

"Or in the bedroom," said Hermione, though she immediately turned red and regretted saying it. What had gotten into her? Was she flirting?

Malfoy only gave her a smirk, and they continued their practice.

The hour was nearly up, and the instructor ordered all the students to finish up their practice. A few other students asked Hermione if she'd liked the class.

"Yes, very much," she said to a very attractive young man.

The instructor walked up to her with a smile.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"It was great," said Hermione breathlessly. "Very useful."

"Interested in a membership?" he pressed.

"Absolutely," said Hermione, without even thinking about it. Her brain was still a bit foggy and her entire body felt like it was on fire. She could definitely get used to this.

Hermione filled out the paperwork for a membership in the dueling club, planning to attend every class she could. She glanced around the room for Malfoy before she left, and was surprised to find that she was a bit disappointed that he'd already left. Hermione tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and ended up at home.

For the first time in months, Hermione felt sexy. Sexual. She wanted to touch herself. She immediately peeled off her workout clothes, running her hands along her body and remembering the feel of Malfoy's subtle erection through his pants. Climbing into her bed, she traced her fingers down her body until she found that sensitive place between her legs, a spot she'd almost forgotten about. She nearly jumped with the pleasure of rubbing her finger around it, but soon got into a rhythm of stroking and touching. Imagining all sorts of scenarios in which Malfoy had pinned her down and taken advantage of her, Hermione's breath quickened and she quickly found herself at climax. Her breath was heaving and a sheen of sweat covered her body. It had been ages since she had orgasmed. It was brilliant.

Oh yes, she was going to like this dueling club very much.

((()))

Malfoy also found himself in desperate need of a release after the day's dueling class. He'd been paired with women before in situations like today's class, always an uncomfortable position, but most of the women who joined dueling clubs were quite masculine. It didn't mean he had never had his body react in a rather embarrassing manner, but there was something about having Hermione Weasley – Granger as she apparently was once again – straddling him that made it particularly difficult to will away his erection. He hoped she hadn't noticed, but then again, some small part of him hoped she did.

He jumped in the shower as soon as he made it home and wrapped his fingers around his cock, relieving some of the ache as he stroked himself. He found himself quite unintentionally picturing Hermione Granger pinned beneath him, sweating and panting, but in his imagination, she wasn't just learning fighting techniques from him. He could picture the heat from between her legs, and as soon as he imagined sheathing himself inside of her, an orgasm washed over him as he spilled himself onto the shower floor. Shuddering, Draco finished up his shower and got dressed.

Hermione Granger. Draco shook his head. What the hell was she doing divorced and joining a dueling club? How could the nauseating Ron and Hermione Weasley have possibly divorced? He had been quite content pretending that the Golden Trio hadn't existed since Hogwarts, as they were always an annoying reminder of the embarrassment he had felt in crawling away from Voldemort during those final hours of the battle. Yet with a Weasley and a Potter child in the same year as Scorpius, he heard about them all far too frequently. Their children were Gryffindors, of course. Draco rolled his eyes just thinking about it.

And yet fifteen years was quite a few, plenty to forget about old rivalries and grow up. He would never be friends with Potter or Weasley, but Granger . . . well, the dueling class today might have changed his mind about her. She was a Mudblood – Muggleborn, as the politically correct term was these days – which would make dear Great Grandfather Malfoy turn over in his grave. Yet his body had been unable to help responding to her. Maybe it was just a reaction to the fact that he hadn't had a shag in two years. He simply had never tried. Not as though a woman wouldn't be happy to oblige – he was one of the richest wizards in Great Britain after all. But shagging too often meant flirting and dating and, he shuddered to think about it, falling in love.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, I'm off," said Hermione.

"You just got here!" Ginny said.

"I know. Just dropping off this letter from the kids. Be sure Ron gets it, will you?" she said.

"I will. Where are you off to?" asked Ginny.

"The dueling club. I really loved the class last week. I got a membership," said Hermione.

Ginny nodded, and with another promise that Ron would get the letter, Hermione Flooed to the dueling club for class. She couldn't help but hope that Malfoy would be there again, to hope that they would be working on more wrestling maneuvers, to hope that she'd be paired with him . . .

"Ms. Granger!" said the instructor cheerily when she arrived. "Glad to see you here again this week."

"Thanks, I enjoyed it," said Hermione.

She saw plenty of familiar faces from the week before, including the two women who were still doing their best to ignore her. A couple of the men seemed to be gravitating toward her, looking as though they intended to start a conversation.

"We're working on Disarming today," said the instructor. "Pair up again."

Hermione didn't see Malfoy, and she couldn't deny that she was disappointed. Three of the attractive men from the week before began to approach her, mouths open to ask her to pair with them, when she heard _his_ voice.

"Partners again, Granger?" asked Malfoy.

She nodded, not failing to notice the disappointment on the other men's faces.

"Not often we get women around here," said Malfoy, as if to explain the men who had circled her like vultures. "Disarming today?"

"Yes," she said. "And I don't need your instruction."

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" he asked.

"I was trained by Harry Potter himself. Famous for his Disarming spell," said Hermione, her lips curved into a daring smile.

Malfoy groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I was waiting for Potter to come up," he said. "Yes, being taught the Expelliarmus spell by a sixteen year old wizard certainly prepares you to face a Manticore level fighter."

"Manticore?" she asked.

Malfoy held up his wand and showed her the engraving.

"Second to highest," he said.

"Oh? And what's highest?" Hermione said, ignoring the fact that the pairs all around them had already started.

"A dragon," said Malfoy, leaning in.

"Draco," she said.

He looked at her, as though he was uncertain whether she was saying his name or just repeating the word in Latin. Truth be told, Hermione wasn't sure either. She glanced up at him, feeling confident once more.

"Harry was an excellent teacher. I'll have you on your back in no time," she said, fully intending the double entendre but having no idea where this flirtatious courage was coming from.

"Have me on my back in no time?" he asked. "What will you bet on it?"

"What would you prefer?"

Malfoy considered her a moment, his eyes dark grey and cautious, but daring. Finally, he spoke.

"A drink."

"A drink?" she asked. "You'll buy me a drink?"

"If you manage to Disarm me, yes," he said. "If not, the drink's on you."

Hermione paused a moment, looking into his devious eyes, before responding.

"All right, then. It's a deal," she said.

((()))

_Oh, she's good_, thought Draco. And she really was. Damn if Potter wasn't a good defense teacher; Draco hadn't been able to get an Expelliarmus near her. But at least she hadn't gotten a hit on him, either. The other students in the class had wands flying in every direction, but Draco and Hermione just continued casting Disarming spells and Shield Charms, never managing to make any headway. The instructor was watching them and pointing out to the other students the advantages of their techniques. Draco was going to get that drink from her. He was hoping for more than one drink, just enough to make them both tipsy, maybe they'd end up at his flat, maybe they'd practice their defense moves-

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Hermione, and Draco suddenly found his wand flying out of his hand.

Hermione was absolutely unbearable in her victory. The instructor was praising her, reminding her that she had just disarmed someone of the second highest rank in the club. She was so damn humble and modest with the praise, even though her eyes kept stealing glances at him and sending haughty stares his way. Draco couldn't help but shake his head and laugh. Damn her! Damn Potter, as well.

"Looks like that's one drink you owe me," she said when the bustle had died down.

"Another round?" he proposed.

When the hour-long class was over, Draco owed Hermione three drinks and she owed him four. They left together and headed for the pub next door. Hermione had made some vague comments about needing to go home and shower first, but Draco hadn't allowed it. He thought that if he let her go home and shower, she might lose her nerve and decide not to meet him for that drink after all.

"First round is mine," said Draco.

He got a firewhiskey and Hermione got a glass of red wine. The bartender knew him well and poured heavy for them both.

"So, how long have you been part of the club?" asked Draco, taking a sip and wincing slightly at the burn.

"The dueling club? Just joined recently," Hermione said.

"Not that club," said Draco, and he held up his ringless left hand. "The divorcee club. Mine was final ten months ago."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Just recently. Hasn't been finalized yet."

"But you've already dropped the last name?" asked Draco.

Hermione shrugged.

"He's already gotten a new girlfriend," she said.

Draco rolled his eyes. Just like a Weasley. They had no class.

"Kids take it all right?" Draco asked, making conversation.

"They don't know yet," said Hermione.

"I see," he said.

Draco turned to his drink. The whole experience was a bit surreal: having drinks with Hermione Granger. They had been enemies at Hogwarts, but it was hard to call up those feelings when so much time had passed, so many things had happened since then. He wasn't sure if he wanted to keep talking about her divorce. That might lead her to ask questions about his-

"How did Scorpius handle it?" asked Hermione.

"Ah," said Draco, taking another sip. "He didn't seem to care much. Though I don't see him as often as I'd like anymore."

That thought sent a painful wrench through his gut.

"Why not?"

Draco's face dropped into an impassive mask.

"Let's talk about something else," said Draco with a tone of finality, and he signaled to the bartender for another round of drinks. "This one's on you."

"Okay," said Hermione, considering him carefully. She was looking at him with pity in her eyes. No, it wasn't pity. It was . . . concern? He didn't know. Didn't want to think about it.

"Why did you decide to take defense classes?" asked Draco.

Hermione shifted in her seat, adjusting to the new line of conversation.

"I live alone now. I wanted to know how to defend myself. It's been so long since I've needed to. Ever since the war ended . . ."

She trailed off. That line of conversation wouldn't end anywhere pleasant either. This might be more difficult than he'd thought.

"Why did you?" she asked.

Draco shrugged.

"Not much else to do, really. I don't work, don't have a wife, only have partial custody of my son. I knew I was good at dueling and decided to see how well I could do at it," said Draco.

"Seems like you've done quite well," she said.

"I'm hoping to take the dragon level test after the holidays. There's only one test offered each year, and you have to go all the way to Edinburgh to take it," he said, glad the conversation was taking a more pleasant turn.

"You're quite good," said Hermione. "And a good teacher."

Draco saw a little flush creep up her cheeks. So their training session had a bit of an effect on her as well. That piece of valuable information, plus the beginnings of the firewhiskey working its way through his system, made him bold.

"Liked wrestling around with me, eh, Granger?" he asked. "Can't blame you."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"So full of yourself. Haven't changed a bit," she said.

Draco met her eyes and they looked at each other for a long moment.

"Well, maybe a bit," she said.

((()))

Hermione was surprised at how easily the conversation flowed. After their first few attempts failed and they had fumbled about a bit, they finally found their stride and chatted easily for a couple of hours. The alcohol probably didn't hurt. Malfoy was certainly not the same person he had been at school. He was still arrogant, distant and cool at times, particularly if she pressed anything personal, but he wasn't the rude brat he had been. She supposed she was different too. She wasn't a hard headed, bossy child. She was a woman. An attractive woman. An attractive woman with a low cut shirt. She leaned forward on her elbows a bit, the wine filling her with confidence, and allowed a bit of her cleavage to show.

Why was she flirting with Draco Malfoy? She couldn't really put her finger on it, other than the fact that this was the first time she'd felt sexy in years, the first time in ages that a man had made her feel desired, even if it had been in the confines of a defense class. But here they were, chatting and, if she dared to say, flirting over drinks at a pub. He was on his fourth drink, she on her third.

"What 's Potter up to these days?" asked Malfoy casually.

"He's head of the Auror department," she replied. "Oh, Merlin. Harry! What would he think if he knew I was having drinks with Draco Malfoy?"

"Does it matter?" Malfoy replied with a chuckle.

"I don't know," she said. "Sort of."

He gave her a smirk.

"You're glad Harry would be upset!" Hermione accused.

"What can I say?" Malfoy said with a shrug, tipping his glass up to his lips. "Old rivalries die hard."

Hermione tried to suppress a grin, masking it with a sip of wine.

"Another?" asked Malfoy.

Hermione hesitated.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Malfoy pressed.

With a half-hearted chuckle, Hermione shook her head. Draco ordered another drink from the bar. She wouldn't be in any condition to Apparate after the fourth one.

"How can you not work?" Hermione asked.

He eyed her.

"It's pretty easy when you're the sole heir to both the Malfoy and Black fortunes," he replied.

"Yes, yes, I know how you manage it financially," she said, waving her hand. "But how can you live with yourself? Don't you feel like a waste of space?"

"Being rather blunt now, aren't we?" asked Malfoy, but he didn't seem upset. "It's not as though I've never worked. I've done jobs, important jobs actually. I was the Ministry ambassador to Sweden for a year."

"Yes, I think I knew that," she said.

"I keep busy. There's always a charity wanting something or other," he continued.

"A Malfoy donating to charities?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

Malfoy shrugged.

"Got to convince people we're worth keeping out of Azkaban," he said honestly.

"Self-interested to the last," said Hermione.

"Everyone's self-interested. Everyone acts on what's best for themselves, whether they'll admit it or not. There's no such thing as altruism," said Malfoy. "I'm just one of the few who's willing to admit it."

"People can be altruistic," she said.

"They can't."

Hermione looked at him seriously.

"I'd do absolutely anything for my children. I'd die for them. I'd endure the Cruciatus every moment of every day of the rest of my life if it meant keeping them safe," she said. "Don't tell me that's self-interest."

He looked pained for a moment. She noticed that he didn't like to talk about his son.

"Yes," he said, recovering quickly, "but it is self interest. You're securing your genetic future. Ensuring that the wizarding world will have brainy, curly-haired children for all eternity."

"I don't buy it," she said. "Besides, that sounds like a Muggle argument."

He just shrugged. They finished their drinks and paid their tabs.

"So we're square from the duel now?" asked Malfoy.

"I'd say so," she replied.

It was a bit awkward, then. Hermione didn't really want to leave, but there was no way she was inviting him back to her place. Draco solved the problem for her by lifting her hand and bestowing a quick kiss.

"See you at class next week," he said, and with that, he turned and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next few weeks passed similarly. Draco spent three days each week training at the studio for his Dragon level exam, and then spent each Saturday at the open level class paired with Hermione, followed by a few rounds at the pub. They had since abandoned the practice of letting the loser pay for drinks, as besides Disarming spells, Hermione was woefully inexperienced and rusty. Besides, he was one of the richest wizards in Great Britain; he might as well buy drinks for an attractive lady once a week.

An attractive lady. Some of the raw sexual tension had eased between them as time passed since the groundwork class. He supposed that rolling around on the ground with a good looking woman would make anyone a bit on edge in that department, but the flirtation was still there and the conversations were entertaining and stimulating so long as they stayed away from certain subjects, though occasionally they strayed onto dangerous territory by accident.

"It's just been lonely," said Hermione. "This is the first year both the kids have been gone to Hogwarts, and I miss them so much it hurts. Don't you wonder how our parents could stand letting us leave for so long?"

Draco scoffed.

"My parents could not have cared less," he said.

Hermione paused, as if she had forgotten momentarily to whom she spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For?"

"For bringing it up. For your parents not caring," she said honestly.

Draco's jaw tightened. He did not like it when their conversations took these kinds of turns. He motioned to the bartender for another drink and they sat in silence for a minute. His mind was focused on Scorpius, how much he truly did miss his son. He understood exactly what Hermione meant when she spoke of missing her children. The thing was, he never really knew how to say so. Malfoys didn't express their emotions. That was something that had been drilled into him from a very young age.

"What level test do you think I could pass now?" asked Hermione, easing the tension.

Draco laughed out loud.

"I don't know, field mouse?" he said.

She slapped him half heartedly on the arm.

"Seriously!"

"I am serious!" he said.

"There's no field mouse ranking," said Hermione.

"They'd create one for you," he replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a sip of wine.

((()))

The dueling club curriculum was a rotating cycle in the open level class. Each week they focused on a different set of skills, ranging from Disarming to hexes to curses to counter-curses. Eventually they circled back around to the beginning, and it was on her 8th class that the instructor once again said they would be covering groundwork. Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought. She and Malfoy had become rather close over the past few weeks. She had found herself distracted at work during the week, thinking about a funny thing he'd said or a new skill she'd learned in class, though lately she hadn't been thinking as much about the sexual aspect of the man. Those thoughts had strayed from her mind, but at the thought of wrestling around on the floor with him once again, the feelings rushed back to her all at once.

Today they would be learning a slightly different skill. As the standard participant for demonstrations, Malfoy straddled the instructor and leaned back as the instructor showed the rest of the class how he used one elbow to get Malfoy's wand arm out of the way, then a hand on his opponent's hip to push him away while simultaneously twisting underneath to pull himself away from the attacker.

Hermione already felt hot underneath her collar. Malfoy returned to Hermione's side and quirked an eyebrow.

"Ready?"

She nodded. He got on his back and Hermione straddled him, sinking down fully and silently chastising herself for trying to feel for any reaction in Malfoy. None as of yet, but when she felt his hands on her hips, a jolt of electricity shot up her spine. Dear Merlin.

She couldn't quite make out his words as he described the techniques he was using, wasn't even paying attention as he suddenly twisted his hips underneath her, pushing her backward as he shot away and leapt to his feet, ready in a fighting stance.

"Just like that," said Malfoy, his voice just a bit huskier than usual.

Hermione got on the ground and felt her breath quicken when he straddled on top of her. She would remain professional. She would.

"Right hand on my hip," said Malfoy.

She cautiously placed her hand there.

"Use your left elbow to knock out my wand arm. Then you'll push backward and twist underneath me, just like the demonstration," he said.

She tried. The first attempt didn't quite free her from his grasp. He was, after all, quite heavier and bigger than she was. She ended up with her legs a bit tangled in his with him still hovering over her. Hermione smiled weakly at him.

"Guess I need practice," she said.

"You do," said Malfoy. "But what if you were in this position? What if I were really attacking you?"

_I'd let you do whatever the hell you wanted, _she wanted to say, the heat and sexual tension that she'd thought had dissipated rushing back.

"Come on, Granger. How would you fight back?"pressed Malfoy.

She thought quickly and performed a faux jab to his crotch. Malfoy played the part well, acting as though he were incapacitated as she wriggled away and reached for her wand, training it on him as soon as she was on her feet.

"Very nice," the instructor commented. "You're improving, Ms. Granger."

Malfoy seemed rather pleased with himself in his ability to teach.

"Again," said Malfoy. "And see it through this time. I won't be letting you away so easily."

They went through the practice again and again. Hermione was panting, though she wasn't entirely sure it was just from the physical exertion. Malfoy took his place on top of her. The wrestling match moved fast. Hermione knocked Malfoy's wand away from her face, pushing herself backward and ending up halfway on her stomach as she twisted away from him, but rather than pausing to allow her to figure out what to do next, Malfoy quickly pinned her wrists above her head, flipping her onto her stomach and straddling her, his hips pressing directly onto her arse, and Merlin if she couldn't feel his arousal now.

"Now what would you do, Granger?" he whispered hoarsely.

Without really thinking it through, Hermione bucked her arse up into his hips, and whether it was because of her wrestling skill or because of the inherent sexual nature of that particular move, his grip on her wrists loosened, allowing her to twist underneath him. He recovered quickly and now had her pinned beneath him once again, though this time she was on her back. In a moment, she grabbed one of his wrists and used the technique she remembered from the first day of class, using momentum to roll him over and in the shuffle, grasp his wand. She ended up on top of him, straddling his hips and pointing his wand, Manticore engraving at all, directly at his face.

"Well done," he said, his grey eyes dark.

But a Manticore level fighter would not be bested that easily, for as soon as he'd said it, Malfoy had kicked her legs out from under her and spun her over once again, pinning her wand arm with his hand and holding her body to the ground with heavy pressure from his hips, her legs wrapped around his back. She could feel his hardness pressing against her.

The instructor was telling the students that class was over, but Hermione remained pinned below her partner for a moment.

"What do you say we move that drink to my place today?" whispered Malfoy, his voice husky.

Hermione could only nod. He stood and faced the only non-mirrored wall for a moment as he adjusted himself, and Hermione felt a wave of heat wash over her as she thought of his hard erection inside his loose workout clothes.

He turned to leave the room and motioned for her to follow, holding out his hand. As soon as they stepped outside the warded studio, she felt a tug in her navel and was Apparated to a trendy looking foyer in what appeared to be Malfoy's flat.

"Home from the play fighting group again?" called out a snide, drawling voice. "Still been out sullying the Malfoy name with your frippery?"

"Frippery?" said Malfoy, and Hermione turned in circles, trying to orient herself and see where the voice was coming from.

They walked into the living room and Hermione saw that the snide comments were coming from a portrait of a man that shared the platinum hair but few of Malfoy's features.

"Hermione, this is my great grandfather, Marius," he said.

"Ah," said the portrait. "Skipped dueling class today?"

"No, she's in the class with me," Malfoy replied.

The portrait huffed and refused to speak further. Hermione followed Malfoy into the kitchen, admiring the expensive looking furniture, complete with various sofas and chairs that seemed to have never been sat on. Malfoy used a Summoning charm and a bottle of red wine appeared.

"This all right?" he asked, holding up the bottle.

Hermione nodded, suddenly very aware that her relationship with Malfoy had taken a distinctly new turn. She wasn't at a pub buying him a round after he'd bested her at a duel. It had been very easy to agree to a drink at his house when she was pinned beneath him, breath heaving and body aching for more, but now that she was actually here, she found herself a bit nervous.

Malfoy shoved a drink into her hand and she took a sip, hoping to drown the feeling of discomfort. He guided her into the sitting room. She sat down on the sofa, and he sank down next to her, far enough to be proper, but close enough to make her pulse race. Malfoy heaved a sigh.

"Cheers," he said.

((()))

How did one go about seduce a woman again? Draco found that he'd completely forgotten. Casual flirtation at the pub was easy enough, and seduction didn't even require effort when they were rolling around on the floor, hips pressed together through thin workout clothes. But now with Hermione on his sofa drinking wine, he was woefully unprepared for how to proceed. It had been sixteen years since he'd had to do this.

Her eyes darted up to meet his. Clearly she was just as nervous as he was, but being the wizard in the relationship, he knew it would be on him to make the first move. The first move! On Hermione Granger! What had the world come to? Marius Malfoy would never shut up if he knew what was happening. He could hear it now . . . blood traitor, abomination, embarrassment to the Malfoy name, on and on. Things he himself used to say before the war made those kinds of sentiments ostracizing.

A lock of curly brown hair has escaped her messy bun, so he took it upon himself to reach over and tuck the strand behind her ear. She leaned into his hand, her eyes closing half shut, and he froze. Her eyes peeked open again. They were both unsure of their next move. He knew she wanted him to move forward, to kiss her. He was dying to do it himself, desperate to feel those soft pink lips against his. Just when he thought he'd gotten the courage, her eyes opened, as if she'd grown impatient. He dropped his hand from her face and looked away. The moment had passed.

((()))

The entire next week at work, Hermione found she couldn't concentrate. After Malfoy had almost kissed her, they'd spent the rest of the evening sipping their drinks and conversing a bit awkwardly, trying to ignore the interjections that Marius Malfoy occasionally tossed their way. Malfoy had gone on to explain the various skills required to pass each level in the dueling club, listing off everything he would have to demonstrate for his Dragon level exam. She was impressed with what he told her he could already do. He was clearly holding back quite a bit of skill when he worked with her, letting her feel that she was actually improving even though he could obviously take control at any time.

She was finishing up shelving books at the Ministry library. She'd somehow found herself in the library section that held books on dueling and fighting skills, quite by accident (which was a filthy lie, she knew. She had been very keen to take this particular stack of books from one of her coworkers). Hermione found herself opening the books just to make sure there wasn't any damage (another blatant lie to herself). Animated pictures of duels that progressed a lightning fast speeds enthralled her. Hermione snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf, immediately heading for the office where she could grab her things before she left work. But instead of Apparating home, Hermione went straight to the dueling club where she knew the Ashwinder and Manticore level classes were being held, only because she'd casually glanced at the schedule once to see if there were any other classes for fighters at her own level (lie).

When she Apparated to the entrance of the dueling club, Hermione very quietly snuck inside. She sat against the back wall where a few other spectators had gathered. The duels were mesmerizing. There were a dozen fighters in the room, six different pairs engaged in intense combat with wands moving so fast she almost couldn't see them. Their bodies moved with elegance and grace. Their spells hit with precision; not one of them ever bounced off and hit someone or something else.

Duelists sweated and panted; it seemed as though none of the fighters ever got a moment to relax as they were pelted with spell after spell, returning each hex with a curse or jinx of their own. The duels went on for long, lengthy minutes with no apparent winners. But in the middle of all the action was Draco Malfoy, who looked perfectly cool and comfortable as he faced his opponent.

The motions of his wand were flawless, his jinxes perfected. His opponent was scrambling to keep up, always half a step behind. Malfoy's lips hardly moved, his eyes were grey and piercing as he clearly used Legilimency on his attacker to discern which curse would come next. Malfoy's duel was the first to end, his opponent sprawled on the floor unmoving.

Malfoy immediately knelt beside his opponent and muttered a quick spell to reanimate him. His partner shook his head to clear it and shook Malfoy's hand, nodding in what seemed to be awe. The instructor moved to Malfoy's side and clapped him on the back. Then, Malfoy turned and scanned the room, his eyes pausing instantly when they landed on her. He spoke a few words to the instructor.

When he started walking in her direction, stepping around the various pairs that were still dueling frantically, she nearly began to tremble.

"Enjoy the show?" he asked.

Hermione just nodded. He stood in front of her, searching her expression.

"I'm about to go up against the owner of the club," he added. "What'll you do for me if I win?"

Hermione felt her insides turn to jelly.

"A drink?" she offered nervously.

"A drink?" he scoffed. "I get a drink from you once a week."

Suddenly, memories of having him above her, pinning her to the mat with her legs wrapped around him, flooded her mind, and she felt her Gryffindor courage bubble up in her chest. Hermione took a deep breath and looked straight into his piercing grey eyes.

"A kiss," she said quietly.

Malfoy looked momentarily stunned but he covered his emotions quickly. He gave her a curt nod before he turned and walked back to his instructor who was waiting with wand in hand.

They bowed to one another, as is proper in a formal wizarding duel, and after that, the duel moved so fast she could hardly tell what was happening. This was totally unlike the duel she'd witnessed between Snape and Lockhart in 2nd year, unlike Dumbledore's Army, unlike the fights she'd witnessed at the Battle of Hogwarts, even. This was not a battle between a clumsy Death Eater and a well-intentioned but inexperienced Order Member. This was a battle between two professionals, and it showed.

Hermione thought Dumbledore himself would be a bit unwilling to go up against Draco Malfoy in a duel.

But unlike Malfoy's duel against the wizard with the Ashwinder engraved upon his wand, this duel actually seemed to require some concentration from the blond haired wizard. He wasn't poised and flawless, he was truly working for every hex that he threw. He wasn't able to anticipate his instructor's every move the way he had his previous opponent. It seemed that the instructor's currently expressionless eyes indicated he was quite skilled at Occlumency.

The instructor was clearly working for every advance as well. Most of his hexes bounced harmlessly off of Malfoy's shield charm, and any that passed it were dodged or dissolved with a Counter-curse at the last possible second. Hermione found her heart racing at the action-packed duel, and indeed, all the other duelers had paused to watch.

The instructor began to taunt Malfoy.

"You fight like a girl," he said, making Hermione bristle a bit.

Apparently Malfoy didn't particularly agree with the sentiment either.

"I'll be sure to pass the sentiment onto my Aunt Bellatrix when I see her in hell," spat Malfoy.

That retort sent the instructor reeling a bit and Malfoy was able to gain some ground. The instructor was quick to go on the offensive, however, and continued his taunting.

"What about your pretty Muggleborn standing over there watching?" he asked.

Hermione was astonished when she realized the instructor was talking about _her_. He wasn't using a vicious tone, very lighthearted and obviously just trying to cause Malfoy to make a mistake. Hermione was only slightly offended.

"How does she fight?" taunted the instructor, waggling his eyebrows in a way that was clearly implying more than just the dueling club.

Hermione was torn between feeling affronted and flattered. Malfoy's gaze for the briefest, quickest millisecond flicked over to her, and that was all that the instructor needed. Malfoy was hit with a curse that Disarmed him and landed him flat on his back, the instructor feigned a killing blow to end the duel.

Malfoy was breathing heavily and looking at his instructor with fury in his grey eyes.

"You cheated!" he snapped.

The instructor rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yes, that is what you'll say to the next Dark Wizard who uses an Unforgivable on you," the instructor mocked. "You cheated!"

The instructor's eyes were full of playful laughter, however, and when he extended a hand, Malfoy begrudgingly took it and stood. The pair walked over to Hermione as the rest of the class resumed their duels.

"Hope you know I didn't intend any offense," said the instructor. "Just trying to get a rise out of Romeo here."

Hermione blushed.

"It clearly worked," she said.

The instructor moved on to help the other students.

"Who's Romeo?" Malfoy asked her.

Hermione just waved her hand dismissively. She looked up at him and saw the sting of a defeat lingering in his eyes, along with a bit of embarrassment. She lifted up on her toes and planted a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. Malfoy's expression shifted very slightly, so that you'd really have to know him to notice, and Hermione was a bit surprised that she had.

"I didn't win," he said.

"It was a good effort," she replied with a shrug.

"It doesn't matter," said Malfoy. "I didn't win."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Hermione said with a grin and a twinkle in her eye.

Malfoy almost smiled but stopped himself. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed a breath.

"I'm finished here," he said. "Just have to grab my things and . . ."

Hermione gazed at him, waiting for him to continue. It seemed as though he'd just decided something. He looked into her eyes with all the flawless composure and confidence he displayed when he dueled.

"Would you like to come over?" he said with that silky smooth drawl.

For that voice, Hermione felt she'd do anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This is definitely a smutty chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

When they reached his flat, Draco opened a bottle of wine mechanically and poured her a glass.

"I've got to rinse off," he said. "It'll take five minutes. Is that all right?"

Hermione nodded absently.

"Great Grandfather Marius will keep you company," said Draco with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. Draco rushed to rinse off, half afraid that she would lose her courage and Apparate home before he could finish. He was trying to will away his erection as he showered. There was something about a fight that made him desperate to feel a woman's touch, all that testosterone bubbling through his veins perhaps, and knowing she was out there on the couch waiting for him was almost more than he could take. He dried off with a towel and pulled on some comfortable clothes. When he stepped out of the bedroom, hair still damp, she was sitting on the couch chatting with his house elf.

The house elf squeaked and jumped up.

"Ruju is sorry, Master!" said the squeaky voice. "Ruju should have been preparing dinner!"

Hermione fixed Draco with a scowl the likes of which he had never seen on her face, not even in their days at Hogwarts.

"It's all right, Ruju," said Draco to the nervous elf. "You may start it whenever you've finished talking to my guest."

Ruju zipped away to the kitchen.

"I don't like people who mistreat house elves," said Hermione.

"I don't mistreat him!" Draco said in his defense.

Hermione scowled at him again, and Draco couldn't help but chuckle.

"You're very good you know," said Hermione after a moment of silence.

"I'm good at a lot of things, Granger," said Draco with a purposefully arrogant tone. "You'll have to be more specific."

She groaned audibly.

"You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be," she scolded.

"Making what more difficult?" he asked.

Hermione gestured between them.

"This," she said. "Us."

"There's an us?" he asked, in a way that he hoped sounded seductive, though inside he felt extremely afraid that he was about to lose control of the situation.

"There's an us if I say there's an us," she responded primly.

That prim little smirk and the playful sparkle in her brown eyes worried him. She clearly had the upper hand, and after his instructor demonstrated just how distracted Draco could be by a mere mention of her, Draco had to find a way to put himself back in control. So, with testosterone making him bold and aggressive, he did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed her.

She responded hesitantly, lips barely parting to allow his tongue entrance. Her hands were bashful and barely grazed his shoulders as they kissed. He allowed his own hands to wander a bit, grazing her sides and resting on her hips, but not straying anywhere too intimate. Not yet, although his mind couldn't help but travel back to their groundwork class, the feel of her hot body underneath him.

He leaned into her, feeling the heat from both of their bodies as the urgency of the kiss increased. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he covered her body with his own, kissing passionately as a fire ignited inside him that he hadn't felt in years. Then, just as quickly as it started, they pulled away, breathing heavily and still hovering cautiously in each other's arms.

"I can't believe I just kissed _Malfoy_," said Hermione, wrinkling her nose in disgust, though her eyes were full of humor.

"Malfoy, Malfoy," he said. "Will it always be Malfoy?"

She flushed slightly.

"Draco," she whispered.

The sound of his name on her lips renewed the fervor within him, and he kissed her again. She shifted underneath him so that she was lying on the sofa with her legs around his hips, so similar to their position in their groundwork class but so much more intimate as her hot mouth attacked his. He found his hands wandering more bravely, grazing the curve of her breast which made her whimper, a sound that brought the growing erection in his pants to its full size. He couldn't help but thrust against her hips, making both of them groan. It had been far too long for him.

Hermione's hands were threading in his hair, and it felt divine. He hadn't been touched like this in ages, and the feel of her small body underneath him was almost more than he could take. What an embarrassment it would be for a 34 year old man to blow his load into his trousers. She tugged at the bottom of his shirt, her hands roaming over his taut abdomen, and he pulled his shirt over his head before descending on her once again. Draco pulled back and looked at her, her eyes were hooded and she whimpered softly at the loss of contact.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice sounding unfamiliar in his own ears, hoarse and full of lust.

Hermione chuckled.

"I'm a grown woman, Draco," she said, and his heart leapt involuntarily once again at his name. "It's not like this is my first time."

"I know," he said, nuzzling her neck. "But I'm me, and you're you. This could be . . . complicated."

"Everything's always complicated," she said, and he almost lost control as he felt light pressure from her lips on his neck and along his jaw.

He pulled back again and looked at her.

"I'm not a good man, Hermione," said Draco.

Her eyes darted to his left forearm where his Dark Mark stood out against his pale skin.

"You'll never be able to forget which side I was on," he said.

Her fingers traced the Mark, making him stiffen, and her dark chocolate eyes met his. Without another word, she snaked a hand behind his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers once again. He could feel her hands against the bare skin of his back and longed to touch her skin as well. His fingers curled underneath her workout shirt, slowly tugging it upwards until her bra was exposed. Impatient, Draco pulled the cups away from her breasts, lowering his mouth to tongue her nipple and massage with his hands. Hermione whimpered and pulled her shirt over her head, unsnapping her own bra and allowing him to take it off. He paused to admire her full breasts, taking a moment to remind himself that these were _Hermione Granger's_ breasts. Dear Merlin, what was happening here?

Hermione's hands were tugging at his pants and soon his erection sprung free. Draco hissed through his teeth when her hand wrapped around it and stroked slowly. His own hand reached between her legs and massaged her hot center; she bucked her hips when his thumb ghosted over her clitoris, sensitive even through her pants.

Hermione pushed him backward in a move that showed him she was learning something in their defense classes. He was on his back on the sofa with her on top, kissing him passionately. He felt a groan escape his throat as she moved lower, kissing her way down his chest and stomach, and when he felt her tongue dart out to touch the tip of his erection, he gasped. As her mouth descended on his cock, he could only muster an unintelligible garble from the back of his throat.

"Merlin," he whispered.

Her mouth worked expertly, lips wrapped around his shaft moving up and down as she flicked her tongue across the most sensitive parts. Her hand cupped his balls, gently rolling them as she sucked. It was amazing and he knew he wasn't going to last. Her mouth provided a gentle suction as she increased the pace, using her other hand to keep a tight grip on his shaft.

"God, I'm going to come," he said in a strangled voice.

She kept her lips wrapped around his aching cock and he felt his balls tighten as he spilled into her mouth, letting out a groan as she swallowed spurt after spurt. He was panting heavily, and she was smirking at him, an unusually haughty expression on her face as she licked her lips. The sight was extremely erotic. He reached out to cup her face, bringing her closer and kissing her. Draco lowered her onto her back and helped her wriggle out of her pants, nestling his face between her legs to return the favor.

((()))

_Oh dear God, I'm going to come right now_, she thought to herself.

She was already coming apart as she felt one of Draco's fingers slip inside her, curling forward to massage the sensitive spot just inside her vagina. His tongue was caressing her clit expertly. Her legs were already shaking.

In the early years of their marriage, Hermione had encouraged Ron to learn the art of going down, but he never really caught on and she never really pressed the matter. It had been more than ten years since a man had put his mouth between her legs, and never had a man performed the act with the skill and enthusiasm that Draco Malfoy displayed. Draco Malfoy! She still couldn't get over it.

Her hips were bucking against his mouth of their own accord as her hands fisted handfuls of his hair. She felt an orgasm building slowly in her lower abdomen, but almost didn't want it to end just yet. She wanted this pleasure to last as long as she could stretch it out. But Draco's expertise meant she couldn't hold off for long, and soon she was writhing and moaning as she came, his mouth still pressed against her center, his hands caressing her as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Draco kissed gently back up her stomach and then kissed her lips. They lay panting on the couch, Draco hovering over her and kissing her neck.

"I think," he panted, bestowing a kiss on her lips, "we should stop there for today."

A part of her was distraught that they wouldn't be finishing what they'd started, annoyed at him for stopping her yet embarrassed at how far she'd let things go. Yet the rational part of her knew he was right. They were adults, not horny teenagers, and needed to take things slowly. He kissed her once more and sat up on the couch, fumbling around for his clothes. She dressed quickly, not entirely sure how to proceed.

Draco made it rather simple, though. He grabbed her wine glass and handed it to her, taking a sip of his own. Hermione giggled. How could they just go back to drinking like nothing happened?

A cough made Hermione jump, spilling her wine all over the couch. Draco reacted quick as lightning, casting a cleaning spell on the couch as Hermione's eyes shot around the room looking for the intruder.

"Grandfather!" Draco admonished.

"Are you quite done?" asked the portrait.

"Were you watching?" accused Draco, his face set in a scowl.

"Well it wasn't like you asked for privacy," said the portrait in a haughty Malfoy-esque voice. "Are you going to introduce me?"

Draco glanced at her with an apologetic expression, running a hand through his mussed hair.

"Grandfather, this is Hermione Granger," he said.

"Granger?" asked Great Grandfather Marius, his nose wrinkled up. "Half-blood or less, I'm assuming."

Draco sent a Stunning spell at the portrait, silencing his great grandfather, who was frozen in position with an absolutely scandalized expression on his face.

"Sorry about that," said Draco.

"It's all right," Hermione replied. "Listen, I should probably get going."

"No, please don't. Ignore my Great Grandfather. The last time he left that portrait was sixty years ago. He's a little . . . behind the times," apologized Draco.

"It's not that, really," said Hermione, and she silenced Draco's protests with a kiss. "I've enjoyed your company."

She had a conspiratorial grin on her face, one that Draco ended up returning almost reluctantly. He cupped her face again and gave her a lingering kiss, one that nearly made her forget that she was about to leave. His kisses had the strangest ability to make her forget where she was, who she was, who HE was. She broke away.

"See you in class, all right?" she said quietly, downing the last sip of wine and giving him one last kiss.

Draco just nodded mutely. She let herself out.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next day, Hermione found herself at the Potters' sharing coffee with Ginny early in the morning. She'd slept better than she had in years the night before and was generally lost in thought, remember the taste of Draco in her mouth and the feel of him between her legs.

"Hermione!" said Ginny.

She snapped to attention.

"I've just called your name twice," she said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Hermione, her voice a bit dreamy.

"Hermione," pressed Ginny. "There's something going on. Why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"That's an I-got-laid look!" accused Ginny.

Hermione blanched.

"What aren't you telling me!" pestered Ginny. "Oh please, let me live vicariously. I'm a married mother of three."

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I've met someone."

"That's great!" said Ginny. "Anyone I know?"

"Yes, you know him," replied Hermione.

"Yea?" said Ginny absently, pouring more coffee for them both. "From where?"

"Hogwarts," said Hermione.

"Ooooh," said Ginny excitedly, wrapping her fingers around her steaming mug. "Your year? Older? Younger?"

"My year," said Hermione. "But Ginny, I'm really not comfortable talking about who it is. I mean, it's nothing serious."

"It clearly is if you did it last night!" said Ginny.

"We didn't do it!" said Hermione, who was beginning to sweat.

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"We just . . . did stuff," said Hermione.

"Did stuff. How old are we now? 15?" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Tell me who it is! Someone from Hogwarts, hm? A Gryffindor?"

"No," said Hermione nervously.

"Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? Slytherin?" asked Ginny, and Hermione didn't respond. "Oh honestly, Hermione. If you're worried about Ron, don't be. It's not as though he hasn't been parading Wendi with an 'i' around for months. He isn't going to be jealous or angry. I mean, so long as it isn't Malfoy or something."

Hermione's eyes widened and she stared at Ginny. It took her a moment to catch on, but when she did, Ginny's jaw dropped.

"Oh, _Merlin_, Hermione, it's _Malfoy_?" Ginny gasped.

Hermione didn't respond, her face hot with guilt.

"You're seeing Malfoy? You got it on last night with Malfoy?" shrieked Ginny, hand over her chest dramatically. "When you said Hogwarts I thought maybe Dean or Seamus, but Malfoy? Oh sweet Agrippa, Morgana, and Merlin, I'm having a heart attack."

"I _know_," said Hermione.

"Harry's going to lose it!" continued Ginny. "I thought Ron bringing around a twenty-three year old blonde was bad, wait til you bring your thirty-four year old one!"

"It's awful isn't it?" she said.

Ginny paused a moment.

"No," she said, collecting herself at last. "No, of course it isn't awful, Hermione. Obviously I want you to be happy, and it's great that you've met someone. I just – it's _Malfoy_!"

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their coffee.

"So how was it?" asked Ginny.

"Ginny!"

"I told you, living vicariously!" said Ginny.

"It was good," she said.

"Good?" asked Ginny.

"Ginny, I've never talked about this sort of thing with you!"

"Of course you haven't!" said Ginny. "You were married to my brother, and I'm married to Harry who might as well be yours! But I'm dying to hear about it. It's Malfoy!"

"What's Malfoy?" asked Harry as he entered the room. Hermione dropped her cup of coffee, but Harry's wand stopped it just before it shattered on the ground.

Harry handed her the coffee cup and looked between the two women who were both a bit pink and not talking.

"What's Malfoy?" he asked again.

"Hermione's new boyfriend," Ginny said into her coffee.

"WHAT?" roared Harry, just as Hermione shrieked, "GINNY!"

"You're dating again?" Harry asked. "You're dating _Malfoy_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She should have known better than to even come over in the first place. This was exactly what she needed: the entire Weasley clan would know about her recent choice in lovers, and she had a feeling the news wasn't going to go over well. It wasn't that they had any particular feud with Draco, nothing like what had passed between Arthur and Lucius at least, but old resentments still lingered beneath the surface.

"I met him at my self defense classes," offered Hermione.

"Now I regret telling you to sign up!" said Harry.

"No wonder you were so keen on going back," Ginny said, and Harry gave her a scowl.

((()))

The following week at the club, Hermione seemed a bit off. She wasn't picking up the new skills at the same rate she usually did, she asked fewer questions and blushed more.

"What's wrong, Granger?" asked Draco, fearful that she regretted their actions the week before.

"Nothing," said Hermione, trying to Disarm him nonverbally.

Draco's wand didn't do so much as twitch in his hand.

"Your mind's not on this today," said Draco. "Let's get out of here."

Hermione blanched, and Draco thought his worst fears were realized: she had no desire for a repeat performance. He took her hand.

"I'm sorry that things went so far last week-"

"No, that isn't it at all," said Hermione immediately, shaking her head. "No, it's just. . ."

"Yes?"

Hermione was wringing her hands nervously.

"Harry found out!" she said.

Draco's head fell backward as he laughed. Potter had learned of their little rendezvous? Half of him wanted to rush over to the Potter residence and rub it in their faces. Their little Muggleborn bookworm, falling apart in the arms of the old Slytherin king. If he'd been ten years younger that was exactly what he would have done. But the older, more mature half of him won out, and he took her in his arms, though he was unable to hide his smirk.

"Not too happy about your taste in men, was he?" he said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Ungh," was all she replied. "He's being annoyingly tolerant of the whole situation, but he's not happy."

"Hmm," said Draco, concealing his grin.

"Now don't you start that, Draco Malfoy," she snapped. "It's bad enough with everything going on. The kids will be home for Christmas in just a few weeks, and I have to tell them about the divorce _and _how I'm dating Scorpius Malfoy's father?"

Draco's face dropped into that impassive mask as it always did when his son came up, but just for a moment. His features transformed into a signature Malfoy smirk.

"Dating, are we?"

Hermione felt her face flush.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, "I didn't mean-"

Draco interrupted her by bending his head to kiss her. She felt a bit weak at the knees from the feeling of one of his hands sensually against her lower back and the other behind her neck, his mouth caressing hers.

"Now, Granger, how would you get out of this particular hold?" piped up the instructor, immediately distracting her from the kiss as she flushed once again.

The instructor had a humorous look on his face. He clapped Draco on the shoulder with a laugh and moved on to assist one of the other pairs. Hermione couldn't help but notice that a couple of the other men in the class were looking a bit perturbed by the development. Draco pulled away from her and lifted his wand. Hermione grinned evilly at him as she lifted hers.

_Expelliarmus_, she thought as she waved her wand, visualizing his wand flying from his hand.

Draco's wand flew to the tips of his fingers, but he managed to keep a hold on it. Hermione noticed a furrow of his brow and tightened her grip, but it was no use. Damn, the man was good. Hermione's wand had flown across the room and knocked one of the guys who'd been staring at her on the head, and judging by Draco's pleased expression, she wasn't entirely sure it was an accident.

"There's another drink you owe me," he said haughtily.

((()))

At the end of practice, it was sort of just assumed that they'd be going to his flat again. Draco took her arm to Apparate, and they quickly arrived in his foyer again, his great grandfather groaning in displeasure.

"Her again?" moaned Marius. "Whatever happened to Astoria? She was perfect for you."

Draco sent a Stunner at the portrait again, then turned to Hermione and brought her flush up against him to kiss her. She was all he'd been able to think about all week. His instructor at the club had even commented on how distracted Draco had seemed, though it seemed now the instructor would know why. Draco had been consumed with thoughts of Hermione's body wrapped around him, the smell of her pussy, the feel of her hot mouth. The anticipation of what that sweet pussy would feel like around his hard cock had kept him fighting an erection the entire week. The anticipation was killing him.

Hermione seemed to be feverish with desire as well. Her hands were already pulling at his clothes, her fervor further igniting the passion within him. He found himself pulling her shirt over her head and running his hands over her full breasts, making her sigh. Her body fit perfectly against his. Her hands began fumbling with his pants, brushing across his crotch and making his cock harden fully. She slid his pants down to the floor, coming face to face with his erection in the process. Draco hissed out a breath and snaked his hand gently in her curly brown hair as she wrapped her lips around it. Her mouth was velvety and felt like heaven, but thankfully he had a little bit more control over himself this time. He was hoping to give her some pleasure before blowing his load.

He gently lifted her face back up to his and kissed her, his hand reaching between them to touch her through her thin pants. There was something so damned hot about reaching in between a woman's legs, rubbing his palm against her mound and ghosting his fingers against her clit. The feel of her heat against his hand made his erection ache painfully.

Cliché as it was, Draco found himself kissing her passionately as they removed articles of clothing, leaving a trail of discarded shirts, pants, and underwear in their wake as they maneuvered to Draco's bedroom. He had new furniture, a gigantic bed with forest green sheets, a modern green lounge chair with silver accents, everything purchased new after his divorce. Nothing that carried lingering memories of his ex-wife, nothing to remind him. . .

Draco pulled away from Hermione briefly, shaking his head and cursing himself for letting his mind drift to Astoria. Damn her. She could ruin anything.

He felt Hermione's hand trace the wrinkles in between his eyebrows.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her naked form still against him.

Draco didn't answer right away.

"Is everything okay?" Hermione said, her voice concerned. "What can I do?"

The way her brown eyes gazed at him with such care made him uncomfortable. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

She was too good for him. The thought hit him like a freight train. This was _Hermione Granger_. The bookish girl who saved the Wizarding world, friend to the Boy Who Lived, brilliant, and kind. He was Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, divorced and friendless.

Draco groaned, pulling away from her and collapsing on the bed.

"Draco?" asked Hermione, uncertainty lurking behind her words.

He didn't respond, just remained facedown on the bed, unwilling to look up and realize what a shit mess he'd gotten himself into. The thought of Harry Potter being angry about these new developments had been tantalizing at first, but now that he really thought about it, Potter was right. He had every reason to be angry, because Hermione Granger shouldn't go within 20 feet of a Malfoy.

He felt the bed shift as she sank down next to him, her hand cautiously rubbing his back.

"Hey," she whispered. "Come back to me."

Draco turned his head so he could see her. She didn't look betrayed or hurt or confused. She looked gentle and kind. Her eyes were warm and a half-smile graced her lips. Draco buried his head in the covers again.

"You don't deserve me," he said, his words muffled.

Hermione let out a mock scoff.

"Richest wizard in Great Britain or not, I'll have you know I've done a great many things to deserve you!" she said haughtily.

He looked at her again and saw her warm eyes full of mirth.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," said Draco petulantly. "I'm not a good man for you."

"I think I'm perfectly capable of deciding for myself what sort of man I'd like," said Hermione.

At these words, she straddled him as he remained facedown on the bed. He could feel her warm wetness pressing against his lower back. She leaned over him so that her breasts brushed his shoulder blades, and he felt a kiss against his neck, her tongue sliding out to lick the tender spot and her teeth gentle nipping him. His erection was painful again and he fought the urge to thrust against the bedcovers.

"I want you," she whispered hotly in his ear, "inside of me."

He couldn't even pretend to resist. He twisted underneath her, making good use of his self defense training, and grabbed her hips, and without a moment's hesitation, she guided herself down onto him. They both froze, marveling at the feeling. Hermione's breath was panting in his ear. She began to move, but Draco's hands on her hips kept her at a slow pace. He wanted to enjoy every second of this, and he shuddered as he felt her pussy lift up so that his cock almost came out, but then slowly sinking back all the way down until he was completely sheathed inside of her.

Hermione sat up and leaned backward, holding herself up on her hands and giving him an amazing view of her gorgeous breasts. He watched her impale herself and saw her eyes half shut as the tip of his cock stroked that sensitive place just inside of her. He reached between her legs to feel her soft, smooth folds, letting one finger gently stroke her clit. Hermione moaned, which spurred him on, using the pad of his thumb to rub her clit in tiny, gentle circles. Her limbs were beginning to shake, and he could feel her inner walls tightening on his throbbing erection.

She was so open, so free, so willing to take the lead, allowing him to lie back and enjoy the show, and Merlin help him if it wasn't the best damned show he'd ever witnessed. As difficult as it was to relinquish control, perhaps sometimes it was worth it. Hermione was so unlike cold, limp Astoria – _No_, he thought, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. His ex-wife wouldn't ruin this, too.

Hermione was bouncing up and down on his cock now in a steady rhythm. If he'd been 18, he would have come ages ago, but as it was, he gritted his teeth to keep control over himself. Her breath was heaving and little whimpers were escaping her throat. She was close. He had to get her over the edge, because if there was one thing a Malfoy had to be, no matter what else, it was good in bed.

A few more strong, powerful thrusts, his hips rising to meet hers, and he saw her begin to shake, holding her breath as her pussy tightened around his cock. She was letting out a strangled cry as her orgasm washed over her, and the sound and feel of her coming apart sent Draco over the edge. He spilled himself inside her.

He watched Hermione ride out the last waves of her orgasm before she collapsed next to him. Draco wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead, his heart still racing and his breath coming in quick pants.

((()))

Hermione rested against him, gazing at his half-hard penis resting against his belly, still wet with the remnants of their activities. Dear Merlin, it had been a long time since she'd been fucked, and she couldn't even remember the last time a man had made her come. Whispered rumors of Malfoy prowess in bed were true, she supposed. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him. Hermione had totally forgotten what one was supposed to do after having sex with a man for the first time. After all, with Ron, he had usually just rolled off of her and gone into the bathroom to clean up, tossing a towel in her direction.

Draco, on the other hand, was still letting his hands graze her body cautiously, as if he were trying to memorize every curve. His eyes were half closed when he looked at her, and he gave her a characteristic smirk.

"So?" he asked.

"So what?" she said.

"Best you've ever had, eh?" said Draco with a haughty expression.

She rolled her eyes and smacked him half-heartedly, rolling onto her back, but his arms around her prevented her from going too far. He rolled on top of her, and she noticed that his grey eyes seemed a bit haunted behind all that haughtiness. There was more to Draco Malfoy than she knew.

Hermione kissed his lips quickly and pushed him off of her, climbing out of the bed, following her clothes like a trail of bread crumbs through the house. Draco, damn him, remained near naked as he watched her dress, pulling on only a pair of boxer briefs. Great Grandfather Malfoy looked scandalized, though as his Stunner had yet to wear off, he couldn't express himself.

"You're beautiful," said Draco simply as Hermione tugged her shirt over her head.

She flushed a bit and didn't meet his gaze.

"You're not so bad yourself," she offered.

"What the hell happened?" asked Draco. "How are you single?"

She looked up at him. He was still leaning against the door frame, mostly naked, lean and muscular. Hermione looked back down at her clothes as she straightened them.

"He had an affair," she said.

Draco let out a very Malfoy-esque scoff.

"It's okay," said Hermione quickly. "I wasn't happy. Neither of us were."

"It's no excuse. He's rubbish and he always will be," said Draco with a sneer.

For once, Hermione didn't defend Ron against Malfoy's taunting. It was half true.

"What happened to you?" she asked, well aware that this line of questioning was dangerous where Draco Malfoy was concerned. "Why are you single?"

His face hardened a bit but he didn't shut down on her as he usually did. He shrugged.

"Why was I married?" he responded, but didn't elaborate.

Hermione helped herself to a glass of wine and settled in on the couch. Draco pulled a pair of loose pants up to his hips but remained shirtless as he poured himself a glass as well, sitting next to her and wrapped an arm behind her shoulders. It still felt strange to be so physically close with Malfoy. They'd just had sex, obviously, but the casual placement of his arm around her still seemed foreign and bizarre.

"How long until the Dragon level test?" asked Hermione, a bit uncomfortable with the silence and not wishing to go back to the topic of their ex-spouses.

He looked at her, seeming a bit surprised by the sudden shift in gears, and took a breath.

"Er," said Draco, "a bit after Christmas, so I guess four or five weeks?"

"What are you doing for Christmas?" she asked.

Draco's face hardened again. _Damn,_ thought Hermione. Right back where they started. She should have known better than to ask, but she couldn't help but wonder. After all, she and Ron would be new to the whole idea of sharing Christmas. She was a bit curious as to how it usually worked. But if Draco's tense jaw and scowl were any indication, it didn't work too well. Hermione nestled in closer to him, sipping her wine. They sat in silence for a while, both lost in thought. After a bit more polite conversation, Hermione finished off her wine glass, kissed Draco, and headed home. It was time to owl Ron.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

". . . to figure out what to tell the children and how we're to split up Christmas. I propose that you take Rose and Hugo to the Burrow through Christmas Eve, and I'll pick them up first thing Christmas morning and keep them until they return to Hogwarts," read Harry aloud.

Harry set down the letter.

"It sounds fair to me, Ron," he said.

Ron was sitting on a barstool at the counter, his face buried in his hands. He didn't respond.

"You knew this was going to happen, right?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Ron gloomily. "I didn't really think about the details."

"You got divorced, Ron," said Harry, impatient. "The kids will be splitting holidays between you and Hermione for the rest of their lives."

Ron didn't respond, just dropped his head down onto the counter. Harry didn't really know how to deal with his two best friends getting divorced. Their marriage had never been a happy one. Harry was supportive of their decision to end things, but their choices in rebounds did drive him a bit mad. Ron was still dragging Wendi to all the family events, and to the best of his knowledge, Hermione was still dating Malfoy. Harry shuddered to think of it. He and Ginny had decided it would be best if no one told Ron.

"Everything's final now," grumbled Ron. "She sent along the divorce papers, signed, with the letter. We don't even have to go to court unless there's a dispute about the property or the children."

"Hermione's plan for the children is perfectly reasonable," said Harry.

"I know!" shouted Ron. "I know it's perfectly reasonable. She always is bloody reasonable. She's approached our divorce like just another question on her OWLs. Yes, check this box for divorced, assign the holidays to this or that parent, move on with life."

"That's good, Ron," said Harry. "It's good that it's done and you can both move on. It's good that she's handling this like an adult. Merlin knows how Ginny would react if I'd taken a girlfriend on the side."

"Don't be getting any ideas," said Ron angrily.

"Oh, so it's all right for you, but not me?" asked Harry.

"Don't start," said Ron. "I guess I just thought she'd be a little more broken up about the whole thing, you know? That she wouldn't be so fast to get over it?"

"Ron, you. have. a. girlfriend."

"I know!" Ron said, still angry as his face began to turn that characteristic Weasley pink. "But it's not like it's serious or anything."

"You've been bringing her to family dinners for months!"

"Yea but it's not serious! I still think about Hermione all the time! It seems like she's just completely over it," said Ron. "Merlin, you don't think she's already dating, do you?"

Harry bit his tongue. Not only was he frustrated at how hypocritical his friend was being (though, to be fair, it was totally unintentional on Ron's part), but he was terrified to death of how Ron would react if he learned about Hermione's new love interest. It had taken Harry days to be convinced not to hex Malfoy into the next century. Harry certainly wasn't _totally fine_ with Hermione's choice, but he knew better than to meddle with her love life. All right, all right, Ginny knew better and had threatened Harry within an inch of his life if he got involved. Ron, however, would not have the self-restraint to stay out of it, and considering Ginny couldn't pull the same low-blow threats as she could with Harry (she'd threatened not to sleep with him for a month!), Harry wasn't sure anyone could hold Ron back when he found out the truth.

Fortunately, Hermione was being discreet, and everyone knew that Malfoy kept his private life _private_, thank you very much, so no one in the Weasley family but Harry and Ginny knew the truth.

"Ron, I know better than to get myself involved in Hermione's love life," said Harry honestly. "And at this point it really isn't any of our business, now is it?"

Ron shook his head miserably.

"Now then," said Harry, glad to move off the subject of Hermione dating, "should we send an owl to Hermione?"

Ron nodded glumly.

((()))

It was ten days to Christmas, and Draco was at Diagon Alley doing some Christmas shopping for Scorpius when he ran into an old friend.

"Draco?" she said.

"Oh, hello, Pansy," replied Draco politely.

"How are things?" she said, mirroring his polite yet detached tone.

"Fine," he said.

They looked at each other a few moments. Draco and Pansy had dated while they were at Hogwarts, but the war had turned everything upside down and left their relationship too complicated to ever fix. After all, she had essentially chosen Voldemort's side at the Battle of Hogwarts. Only her youth had kept her from Azkaban; her parents hadn't been so lucky. Pansy had married Blaise Zabini (a good match, Draco was willing to admit) after the chaos died down, and Draco of course had ended up with Astoria Greengrass.

"Want to grab a cup of tea?" she asked.

Oh, what the hell.

"Sure," he said.

They slipped into a café and ordered quickly, Pansy ordering some herbal concoction while Draco stuck with plain English black tea, no sugar, no lemon, no cream.

"How's Scorpius doing in school?" she asked as she stirred her cup.

Draco bristled. Pansy and Astoria were quite good friends. There was no doubt that Pansy was well aware of how Scorpius was faring at Hogwarts. She was also well aware that custody issues with Scorpius were a decidedly sore spot for Draco Malfoy. Pansy was clearing just testing the waters, prodding him a bit, trying to glean some information that she could tuck away for future use.

"Fine," he said quickly.

Pansy glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. Draco knew she would have no trouble reading his unwillingness to talk. Very Slytherin of her. Pansy didn't press the issue just yet, however. She knew that he would just as easily shut down and leave her at the table alone.

"Clive will start next year," Pansy continued. "We're hoping Slytherin for him, but these days nothing's certain. That old hat has lost its mind."

Pansy paused a moment, as if she was considering whether in fact a hat had a mind it could lose. She continued.

"Daphne Greengrass's daughter was put into Hufflepuff," said Pansy, her expression horrified and a bit embarrassed.

He didn't answer. Daphne's daughter, Draco's ex-niece, was a sweet girl but had always seemed to be one step behind the world around her. It didn't really surprise him that she'd been Sorted into Hufflepuff, for Daphne herself had never been the most brilliant of Slytherin students anyway.

"Did you ever have any doubts about Scorpius?" asked Pansy.

Draco's initial reaction was to spit out that Scorpius was a Malfoy, a brilliant and ambitious boy who would never be passed over for Slytherin despite the weakness of Greengrass blood from his mother's side. No sooner had he opened his mouth to slam her with a biting retort, he snapped it back shut. Pansy had a half-grin. She knew she'd almost gotten him to talk, and Draco couldn't help but grind his teeth together. Pansy always knew exactly what he was thinking. He could feel himself being manipulated and refused to allow it.

Draco just made a grunting noise, but Pansy wasn't intimidated. She wasn't a bad woman, nor an evil one. In fact, she'd done a phenomenal amount of charity work in the years following the war, trying to reestablish her place in wizarding society same as Draco had.

"Where's Scorpius going for Christmas?" Pansy pressed.

Draco let out a growl and turned away, sipping his tea in silence. He could feel Pansy's eyes on him. She'd known him for ages, could read him like a book. She knew exactly how far she could push before he snapped. So she pushed once more.

"How's your love life?" she asked.

"Really, woman?" he retorted with a snarl.

Pansy just stared at him with cool, considering eyes.

"So touchy, are we? Must be something good. Who is she?"

If there was anyone who was good with secrets, it was Pansy Zabini. Another very Slytherin quality. Despite Pansy's friendship with Astoria, he'd never once feared that she would reveal anything of consequence to his ex-wife. Surely, Pansy passed along Draco's perpetual anger and irritation at Astoria, but the secret of the pain that cut him deeply, the agony of being kept away from his only child with no recourse, that secret was safe with Pansy.

He was relieved now that the conversation had turned to a different topic, and while his snarling outburst had inadvertently revealed to Pansy that he did have something to hide, at least she was no longer dwelling on the painful subject of Scorpius. Perhaps she couldn't read his mind as well as she used to, and he'd convinced her that the subject of Scorpius was a nonissue. Regarding his love life, it had been weeks of flirting and more with Hermione, and Draco had yet to tell a soul, feeling a bit like it was all too good to be true. He looked at Pansy, the woman who could probably be considered his only friend.

"Who is it?" Pansy repeated, growing more interested with each passing second, and without taking the time to consider his response more carefully, he blurted out the words.

"Hermione Granger," said Draco.

If Pansy was shocked or appalled at the news, she didn't show it. She merely raised her eyebrows and took a sip of herbal tea.

"She could do better," said Pansy.

Draco couldn't help but laugh, and Pansy grinned at him, obviously pleased with herself. The master manipulator was victorious once again. They both sipped tea in silence for a moment.

"Really? Hermione Granger? Since when is she Granger, anyway? I thought she married Ron Weasley," said Pansy.

"She joined the noble ranks of the divorced," said Draco. "We met at a support group meeting."

Pansy nearly choked on her tea. She glanced up at Draco with wide eyes. He could practically hear her inner monologue: _a Malfoy at a support group meeting_? It took her a moment of staring at his perfectly serious facial expression to realize he was kidding. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Really, Pans?"

"I don't know!" she said. "You said you were dating Hermione Granger. I thought maybe you really had gone off the deep end."

Draco just shook his head at her.

"Does your father know?" asked Pansy cautiously.

Draco fixed her with a hard stare.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

Pansy shrugged, unaffected by his scowl. Draco's mind was unexpectedly filled with images of his father's disgusted face when he brought Hermione home to his parents. Despite years of animosity between Draco and the elder Malfoy, there was still that small boy inside of him desperate for his father's approval. But, there was also the man, the successful and wealthy man, who was desperate to prove his father wrong.

"Well I'd best be going," said Pansy, standing and gathering her things. "Got to pick up Clive and the twins from school."

Draco merely nodded, not looking up from his cup. He felt Pansy's hand on his shoulder.

"If I see Astoria, I'll talk to her about Scorpius," said Pansy quietly next to his ear.

Draco clenched his jaw, feeling a bit like someone had punched him in the gut. It turned out that Pansy had known exactly what he was thinking after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione was wrapping gifts in her living room when her fireplace suddenly blazed into green flames. There were only four people who had unrestricted access to the Floo: Harry, Ginny, Ron, and the most recent addition, Draco, and it was the latter who stepped into her room.

"Don't look! Don't look!" she shrieked playfully, using her wand to send half-wrapped presents out of the room. "I'm wrapping your gift!"

She was interrupted by his sudden presence next to her, his hands on her face, his lips attacking her mouth. She was thrown backward by the sheer force of him, but she heard him mutter a wandless spell to summon a pillow underneath her. She collapsed onto the pillow and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hips settling in between her legs and thrusting against her.

Hermione and Draco had been sleeping together for weeks now, and he'd never attacked her like this before. Hermione thought she might catch fire from the heat of the moment.

"Draco," she whispered against his face, "is everything all right?"

Draco just murmured something and kept going, his hands reaching down to her pants and fumbling with the button for a moment before lifting her hips off the ground and sliding her jeans and panties off her legs. She felt his lips against her ankle and a hand between her legs, alternating between massaging her clit and slipping inside her to graze the sensitive spot inside of her. Hermione's hips were bucking against his hand of their own accord.

In a flash, Draco had his own pants off and had flipped her over so she was on all fours, her hands and knees crinkling the remnants of Christmas paper still scattering around her. Some vague voice inside her head panicked at the possibility of tearing her brand new wrapping paper, but the feel of Draco's erection against her entrance silenced the voice for good. He leaned over her, kissing her neck and massaging her breast as he thrust inside of her. She could hear his feral grunt and heavy panting, sending shivers of pleasure through her. She still sometimes couldn't believe that she could have this effect on _Draco Malfoy._

"You feel so good," he whispered hoarsely.

The sound of his voice brought her close to the edge. His cock felt amazing inside of her. At this angle, he was rubbing against her g-spot with every thrust. Her breath was coming out in whimpers.

"Come for me," he said in a gravelly voice. "I can't hold off much longer."

His words were strangled in his throat. The man's lust was seemingly insatiable. She could feel her orgasm building in her abdomen, his hands running up and down her body stoking the fire inside her, his breath hissing through his teeth. Draco could hold off no longer and she felt his cock stiffen inside her as he came, still thrusting as he clung to her, trying to send her over the edge. The feel of his engorged erection was enough to finish her off. She let out a long whimper and felt her entire body shiver.

They were frozen in that position for a moment, breath heaving, until he finally slipped out of her and cast a Scourgify to clean up. Draco sprawled on her couch.

"All right, guess I'll be going then," he said, reaching for his clothes as if to leave.

Hermione slapped him on the arm for his playful grin, a calm, easy expression that she saw only rarely. He was usually so composed, even distant. She loved seeing this side of him. Relaxed and content.

"What brought that on?" Hermione asked, snuggling next to him on the couch.

"Just . . ." said Draco. "Just needed you."

Hermione gazed at him. She liked that answer, and though she had a feeling that there was a bit more to it than that, she knew it was pointless to press him. She saw Draco glance around at the torn wrapping paper and presents.

"Is that one mine, then?" he asked, gesturing to a miniature Quidditch set.

"Yes, for ages 10-13," Hermione read off the box. "Thought it was appropriate."

"That one then?" asked Draco, as he gestured to a box with 'Madame Malkin's' emblazoned on the outside.

"Damn," swore Hermione, scrambling to hide the box.

Draco chuckled. Hermione got all the gifts back to her bedroom, slipped her panties back on, and cuddled next to Draco on the couch.

"Ron's getting the kids tomorrow," said Hermione. "Off the Hogwarts Express."

Draco looked at her and wrapped an arm around her lightly. She sucked in a breath.

"I've never not been there," said Hermione.

"Still haven't told them?" asked Draco.

Hermione shook her head.

"I know, I know, we should have. I just didn't want to let them know by owl! It would ruin their whole term. I'm meeting them at the Burrow to talk," she said. "Harry and Ginny will be there. You know, to make sure things stay civil."

The feel of his arm on her bare shoulder comforted her. She wished he could be there with her. His presence was solid and comforting. He'd been through this before. But she knew now was not the right time to let the Malfoy out of the bag, so to speak. Hermione felt Draco tense slightly beside her, as though something painful had just crossed his mind. She looked at his face; he looked strained, yet resolved. She could tell he was about to say something, and although she wanted to cajole him into speaking, she knew by now that Draco was not a man that could be pushed into anything for which he was not ready. A few agonizing minutes passed in silence when he spoke.

"Scorpius didn't seem surprised when his mother and I told him we were divorcing," said Draco cautiously. "He wasn't even twelve yet, but he handled it very maturely. We told him we both loved him very much, all the things you say to your child when you get a divorce. He didn't seem horribly broken up about it. I guess he gets that from his mother."

"You're not a very emotional person either, Draco," said Hermione, though for a moment she regretted it, afraid that her intrusion would prompt him to shut down.

Draco grimaced a bit.

"You're right," he acknowledged. "I think he just wanted to be reassured that nothing was his fault. That nothing would change too much. That he would still get to see us both-"

Draco cut off his sentence abruptly. He did not continue, nor did his facial expression indicate that he was going to. Hermione took his hand and gave it a brief squeeze. She rested her head against him and let him wrap his arms around her, feeling the weight of his chin on the top of her head.

The next day, Hermione Flooed to the Burrow to wait for Ron, Rose, and Hugo. Mrs. Weasley was there waiting for her, a comforting expression on her face. She patted Hermione's shoulder, and Hermione was relieved to know that she wasn't blamed or hated by the Weasley family. She waited with baited breath. She'd missed her children so much! After what seemed like an eternity, the flames sprung up in the fireplace and her babies stepped out.

"MUM!" cried the two children.

Hermione felt tears in her eyes as she embraced Rose and Hugo.

"Oh, that's it!" said Hermione. "I'm never letting you go back to Hogwarts. I've missed you both far too much!"

"Mum!" admonished the children, but they were grinning at her.

Hermione looked up and saw Ron, who gave her an uncomfortable smile. Hermione felt a nervous knot in her stomach. Harry and Ginny were looking at her encouragingly. It was time to have the conversation.

((()))

When Astoria Flooed into Draco's flat, he couldn't help but gaze at the flames, waiting for them to light up again as Scorpius followed her.

"Astoria," he greeted, still half hoping Scorpius would be along any moment.

"Draco," she said.

"Where's Scorpius?" he asked.

"At my mother's," said Astoria calmly, patting soot from her robes.

"Why didn't you bring him?" asked Draco.

"He's tired, Draco."

"Too tired to see his father?" he said.

Astoria rolled her eyes impatiently.

"That's enough," she said. "I'm here to talk about Christmas."

Draco braced himself. He had gone to King's Cross to pick up Scorpius from the Hogwarts Express, but he'd been five minutes late. Astoria had already left with him and taken him to Ireland. He felt an aching wrench in his gut at the thought that he might not see Scorpius until summer, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, other than pray for the mercy of Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy.

"There's a break in the festivities on Christmas Day from 3 o' clock until 5," said Astoria impassively. "You may see him then."

Draco was momentarily stunned.

"Great," he said.

"You may take him to tea," she said.

"Yes, perfect," said Draco.

"You'll have to come to him," said Astoria. "I'm not going any farther than Bellaghy, and I won't permit him to Side-Along with you."

"Anything," said Draco.

"There's only one place open for tea there on Christmas," she said. "It's a deli."

"Astoria, I'll go anywhere and eat anything," said Draco. "I'll eat cat litter."

Astoria didn't laugh, but she didn't sneer either.

"That'll be all, I suppose," she said.

"Thank you," said Draco.

Astoria disappeared into the flames as quickly as she'd come, and Draco was left with a small sense of peace. Certainly, two hours with his son for the duration of Christmas holiday wasn't much, but it was more than he'd anticipated. He hadn't had but a minute to think about it when the flames rose up again, and Draco felt sick to his stomach. It wasn't Astoria, however. It was Hermione Granger.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You look like you're about to vomit."

Draco shook his head.

"I thought you were Astoria," he said.

She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"She was just here," said Draco with a faint smile. "She said I could see Scorpius on Christmas Day for tea. From 3 until 5, so long as I go to Northern Ireland to meet him."

"Tea on Christmas? That's it? That's all you'll see him?" asked Hermione, astonished.

Draco shrugged.

"It's more than I'd expected from her," said Draco.

"Why would she do that?

"Because she can," he said venomously.

"Can't you petition the courts for more time?"

His expression hardened at he glared at her. His typical impassiveness eluded him. He could feel his anger and desperation bubbling to the surface and couldn't stop the words before they spilled out.

"What court in Great Britain will grant a Malfoy anything, much less more visitation with his Malfoy son?" he snarled. "They don't want a repeat of me and Lucius."

Draco knew he'd spoken too harshly, and she didn't deserve it. He took two measured breaths before dropping his gaze to his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Draco looked at her. Her eyes were a bit annoyed, but patient, as if he were a child who'd just thrown a tantrum.

"How was the talk with your kids?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Hermione sighed and collapsed onto his couch.

"Hugo cried. Rose didn't seem surprised. She's so _smart_. I think she knew it was coming. She told me she understood," she said with a sad smile.

"Well as can be expected, I reckon," said Draco.

"Then things turned awful. Hugo asked _why_ and I was all prepared with a lesson on adult relationships and growing apart and not rushing into serious relationships when Ron . . . Ron!" Hermione said, getting agitated as she spoke. "He just up and says he's in a relationship with another woman!"

Draco cursed the buffoon to hell and back. What an idiot.

"I don't think Ron meant to do something so . . ."

"So incredibly stupid?"

"Yes!" said Hermione. "But he did, and Rose asked if they were going to have a new mother, and Hugo asked if that meant they wouldn't see me anymore. If it weren't for Harry, the whole thing would have imploded."

Draco scoffed at Potter's name but held his thoughts to himself.

"Harry talked Ron down and helped me keep the kids from total panic," said Hermione. "Ron was bright red and embarrassed-"

"Good."

"And everyone else was just kind of staring at us with open mouths. It was a fiasco," said Hermione.

Draco sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. It was a casual gesture but it still managed to surprise him how easily it came to him. He wasn't really the comforting sort. At least, not usually. With her, things always seemed to be just a bit different.

"I'm picking them up on Christmas morning," said Hermione, tears forming in her eyes. "I can't _wait_. I miss them so much. I hate that I won't be able to see them Christmas Eve, that I won't be able to see their faces when they come downstairs to see their presents, that someone else will be able to serve them their Christmas breakfast-"

Hermione paused and looked at him, and he could see the empathy in her face as one stray tear dropped down her cheek. Draco tightened his jaw. He felt every emotion she had just described, and it killed him, just as it was killing her.

"We're just a sad, pathetic lot, aren't we?" asked Hermione with a defeated smile, her voice a bit choked.

Draco chuckled and leaned in to place a kiss on her lips.

"I don't want you to be alone Christmas Eve," said Hermione softly. "Anymore than I want to be alone."

Draco didn't quite trust himself to speak yet. He was still reeling with emotions, from Astoria's visit to Hermione's tears and truthful words. He waited for her to continue.

"Stay with me Christmas Eve," she whispered. She wasn't begging. Not quite. He cupped her face with his hand.

"Anything for you," he said, and he leaned in and kissed her.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Christmas Eve, and Hermione was cooking. The beef tenderloin was in the oven, crusted with peppercorns and herbs, along with fingerling potatoes and asparagus. An artichoke was steaming on the stove, a spell in place to keep the pan from drying out and scorching. Hermione had attempted to make her own bread for the dinner rolls, but that attempt had gone miserably, so she'd had to transfigure the cakey, gummy rolls into a loaf of French bread (one that still had a bit of an odd texture). She was now lighting candles and pouring wine, waiting for Draco's arrival.

The fireplace blazed up with bright green flames and Draco Malfoy stepped into her living room, looking impeccable in formal wizard's robes. He looked so aristocratic, it nearly took her breath away; it was almost intimidating, like she was back at Hogwarts for the first time watching the rich, pureblood students who acted as though they already knew everything about magic, feeling like she would never catch up.

Draco saw her and gave her a half smile, half smirk. They stepped toward each other and she felt his lips against hers, a feeling that she thought would never get old. Ah, it wasn't Hogwarts after all.

"Dinner smells amazing," he whispered against her lips, his hands traveling down her body to feel every inch of her. They hadn't seen each other in almost a week. He'd been at the dueling club every day preparing for his Dragon level exam right after Christmas, and she'd been swamped at work.

"Don't distract me," she said, allowing him one more kiss before she stepped out of his reach. "It's almost ready."

Hermione shoved a glass of wine in his hand, leaving him looking a bit disappointed, to which she gave him a mischievous grin and took a sip of her own wine. Draco hovered over her as she finished cooking, taking every opportunity to touch her or to force her to squeeze by him in the small kitchen. She egged him on by bending over to open the oven and taking every opportunity to "stretch" and arch her back in his view.

Hermione finally served dinner to a very frustrated Malfoy, who sat down at the table with a bit of a grumpy expression and downed a bit of wine.

"Happy Christmas," she said, lifting her glass in toast.

"To you, too," he said, clinking his glass against hers.

They chatted and enjoyed Hermione's delicious Christmas Eve meal, drinking and refilling their wine glasses once or twice more than they usually would have.

"I can't wait to see the kids tomorrow," said Hermione.

"I can't wait to see Scorpius," he said, smiling, which happened only rarely when he talked of his son.

Usually it seemed that the mere thought of Scorpius could send him into brooding, a feeling Hermione was beginning to understand as she accustomed to sharing her children with an ex-spouse. She could only imagine if her ex only rarely allowed her to have contact with them. It would absolutely tear her apart.

"Do you ever think of having any more children?" asked Hermione casually.

Draco actually choked on his wine. He coughed and spluttered until Hermione cast a spell to help him clear his airways. She was looking at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow when his panicked eyes met hers. His face was filled with terror, and Hermione almost laughed at him. His mouth opened and closed once or twice before he composed himself, reverting to an aloof and indifferent Malfoy mask, and looked back down at his plate.

"This steak is delicious," he said calmly.

Hermione laughed out loud.

"Relax, Draco," she said. "I don't mean with you."

He looked at her with an affronted expression.

"Well, who the bloody hell would you be having them with?" he asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, amused at his contradiction.

"I'm only thirty four, you know," she continued, ignoring the fact that his knuckles were now quite white on his fork. "I've got plenty of time. But what I meant to say is that this is all hypothetical. I'm not interested in having any children with you."

Hermione paused.

"Right now."

She watched him cut into the last bit of his steak with trembling hands.

"Ah, I see," he said.

Hermione laughed again.

After dinner, they cleaned up the dishes, Hermione using a sponge the old-fashioned Muggle way, Draco flicking his wand easily to send clean plates back into the cupboards. Hermione still couldn't stop giggling now and then at his panicked reaction to her comment. Draco did not seem to think it very funny.

As soon as they were done, Hermione turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He cautiously pulled her close to him and kissed her, but pulled away.

"Do I need to be casting contraceptive charms?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him. It didn't take him long to forget about the awkward, yet amusing in Hermione's opinion, conversation they'd had over dinner. Soon he was tugging on her shirt and attacking her neck with his hot mouth, and it felt absolutely divine. The candles were burning low and dim, the fire was now just smoldering embers. They stretched out onto the sofa, not even bothering to head for the bedroom.

He was beginning to learn all of her favorite places to be touched and kissed, staying away from the ticklish spot on her ribs and focusing extra attention on surprising finds, like the back of her knee and the place just beneath her hip. It was sensual and worked Hermione into a fever. She wanted him, all of him.

She managed to get him undressed in between kisses, and he pulled off her pants but left her tiny satin panties, his breath heaving as he pushed them to the side to position himself between her legs. She moaned breathily when he pushed inside of her, using his thumb to massage her clit as he thrusted. The feel of his cock inside of her was ecstasy, and if the way he closed his eyes and bit his lip was any indication, he was feeling the same pleasure that she was. His lithe and muscular body was tense as her hands explored him, his breath strangled.

The angle was all wrong. Hermione pushed him off of her, leaving him momentarily stunned, and guided him into a seated position. She straddled his lap and he wrapped his hands around her lower back. Hermione leaned backward, his hands supporting her weight, and moved up and down on his erection, finally finding that perfect spot inside of her. His breath was coming fast now, the muscles in his shoulders taut from holding her.

"Just one more minute," she whispered.

The only response she got was a feral grunt. She was close now, her eyes closing involuntarily as she felt the familiar buildup inside her. It snuck up on her more quickly than she anticipated, making her body spasm as she cried out in pleasure. She felt his cock tense inside her almost immediately and heard him groan. Hermione relaxed and he pulled her against him, his muscles twitching from the exertion. She felt his hands on her face, and he kissed her passionately before letting his arms collapse at his sides. Hermione grinned at him.

"I'll be right back," she said. "I'm going to get your present."

"That wasn't it?" he asked breathlessly.

Hermione ran to her bedroom, leaving him pulling on his boxer briefs and relaxing on the sofa.

((()))

Harry and Ginny had finally convinced the children to go to sleep. All three Potter children, plus Rose, Hugo, and the seven other Weasley grandchildren, were all crammed into one room and all of them were hyped up on food and presents. But with countless reminders that Father Christmas would never come if they didn't _go to sleep_, the horde of children had finally settled down. They traipsed down the stairs to enjoy a Christmas drink with the rest of the adults.

"Here you are, dears," said Mrs. Weasley, handing them a glass of eggnog.

"Thanks," said Harry. "Where's Ron?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled knowingly.

"What's that look, Mum?" asked Ginny.

"Ron said he was going to Hermione's," she said with a pleased expression. "I think he had reconciliation on his mind."

"He's going where?" Harry exclaimed.

"Hermione's," said Mrs. Weasley, looking a bit confused, as it was obvious she'd been hoping Wendi with an 'i' would soon be replaced with her ex-daughter-in-law.

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other, knowing exactly who Hermione was likely to have at her house at this time on Christmas Eve. They sat down their drinks and bolted for the fireplace.

((()))

Draco was basking in after-sex glory in just a pair of black boxer briefs on Hermione's couch when the fireplace suddenly blazed into green flames. He first assumed that Potter or his wife had stopped by, a damper on his evening but not a disastrous one, and he was too exhausted to move from the couch anyway. However, when Ron Weasley stepped out of the flames, Draco knew that this night was about to take a very, very wrong turn.

Weasley's face when he caught sight of Draco was priceless, and if it weren't for the enormous amount of trouble that was about to happen, Draco would have laughed.

Weasley's facial expression shifted from shock to horror to disgust in a matter of seconds.

"Malfoy?"

Draco remained seated.

"What in the bloody hell are YOU doing here?" shouted Ron Weasley in a voice that boomed through Hermione's entire home.

Draco gestured to his undressed state as if to say, _What does it look like?_

"You're fucking my wife?" Weasley yelled, his expression a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

Draco chuckled.

"She's not your wife anymore," he commented.

That was apparently quite the wrong thing to say, because Weasley turned a very angry shade of reddish-purple and reached for his wand.

Thank Merlin for years of self-defense and dueling training, because Draco managed to pull off a wandless, non-verbal Shield Charm as he dived for his wand. As soon as he had his wand in his hand, he felt perfectly comfortable. This was his expertise. The Weasley had no idea who he was up against. With barely a flick of the wrist, Draco effortless batted away each hex that Weasley sent his way, hexes that were becoming increasingly more malicious as the Weasley's anger built. When Weasley lifted his wand to perform a vile Dark curse, Draco practically rolled his eyes. What a novice. Every move he made was predictable, and Draco saw the curse coming ages before Weasley had even shouted it. How did this fool ever become an Auror? With a muttered counter-curse, the spell was dissolved into sparks that fell to the floor, singeing Hermione's rug.

That annoyed Draco.

Weasley was apparently getting more and more frustrated and had started sending Blasting curses at the furniture in Hermione's home. That made Draco angry. With a quick jerk of his wand and a whispered word, Draco cast a hex that left Weasley doubled over. He managed to lift his wand a yell an angry curse at Draco, but his aim was poor and it hit the ceiling. Weasley was enraged.

That was when Hermione ran into the room. It was obvious she'd rushed to get dressed as soon as she heard the commotion, because her shirt was on backward.

"What is going on in here?" she shrieked.

"You're fucking Malfoy!" Weasley roared, and he hurled another volley of spells at Draco, spells that he easily dodged and shielded.

Draco couldn't help but think this was great practice for his Dragon level exam. How often did he get actual, real-world fighting experience these days?

"STOP!" shrieked Hermione.

Weasley did not heed her warning. Draco sighed a bit impatiently and sent another hex at him, hoping to dissuade him from continuing the fight. Weasley gasped for breath as though he'd been punched in the gut, but that didn't stop him from haphazardly sending another curse in Draco's direction.

"You don't deserve her!" Weasley gasped.

That gave Draco pause. _He didn't deserve her_. He hadn't deserved to be married. He hadn't deserved to have such a wonderful, amazing son. He hadn't deserved to meet a wonderful, curly-haired woman at the dueling studio and to fall in . . . _No_, he thought, cutting off that train of thought. He didn't deserve someone who was so open, honest, trusting, _loving_. He didn't deserve her.

"You're right," said Draco, dropping his wand onto the ground and lifting his hands in the air. "I don't."

The look on Hermione's face pained him. She looked a mixture of hurt and sympathetic. She really did care about him, didn't she? Damn it all to hell.

"Ron, just put the wand away," said Hermione.

Weasley looked as though he was about to heed her advice. Draco knew he should take his lumps, surrender like he ought to, keep his mouth _shut_, but fuck if he couldn't help it. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"But she sure as hell doesn't deserve a classless, poverty-stricken, clumsy oaf like you," spat Draco.

All he saw was Ron Weasley's wand arm slashing through the air. At first, he thought he might laugh. The Weasley's spell hadn't even done anything! He had missed when his opponent was totally unarmed! Then it hit him. Suddenly. The room spun and Draco dropped to his knees before everything went black.

((()))

"Draco!" cried Hermione, rushing to his crumpled form.

"So it's Draco now?" accused Ron.

"Ron, what did you do to him?" Hermione said.

"He's just . . . I didn't . . ."

Just then, the flames roared to life and Harry and Ginny Potter stepped through.

"What happened here?" asked Harry, his voice authoritative.

"Ron cursed Draco!" said Hermione, panicking.

Ginny, who'd gone into work as a healer at St. Mungo's, rushed to her side and took out her wand, beginning to murmur a few diagnostic spells against Draco's limp body. Harry looked taken aback.

"I ought to arrest you!" Harry said to Ron.

Ron was looking at all of them like he couldn't quite absorb what was happening. Hermione was torn between watching Harry and Ron argue and watching Ginny heal Draco. He'd hit his head on the sofa table when he fell, and she was closing the wound with her wand.

"Harry, why aren't you surprised to see Malfoy here?" Ron said.

"I think that's a bit beside the point-"

"Why aren't you two surprised by all this?" he roared.

"Because we knew!" shouted Harry.

"You knew and you didn't tell me?" Ron yelled back.

"Of course we didn't tell you! Look what happened when you found out!" Harry said angrily, gesturing to Draco on the floor.

Ginny was shaking her head as she continued casting spells. Hermione was holding Draco's head in her hands, feeling his silky blond hair between her fingers. She hadn't realized just how much she'd come to care for Draco Malfoy until she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.

"Let's get him to St. Mungo's," said Ginny calmly.

"Is he going to be all right?" said Hermione, hysteria bubbling up inside her.

"I've done what I can here," Ginny continued. "The Healers at St. Mungo's will have to do the rest."

"Ginny, is he going to be all right?" shrieked Hermione.

Ginny placed her hands on Hermione shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye.

"He's going to be fine," said Ginny firmly. "We just need to find out what happened to him."

Every eye in the room turned to Ron.

"Well?" prompted Harry.

Ron tugged at his bright red hair with his hands, looking a bit panicked.

"I don't know," he said. "I was just so angry, and he was casting spells at me. Harry, you should know he hit me right in the chest with a-"

"What spell did you use?" interrupted Ginny.

Ron hung his head.

"The _Incidaere _curse," he said quietly.

Hermione was horrified. It was a very dangerous curse, one that could leave permanent magical damage to the victim's lungs and airways. They were lucky Draco was breathing at all at this point; credit, perhaps, to Ron's ineptitude with Dark Magic. Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

"Damn you, Ron," said Harry, running a hand through his hair. "Now I _really_ ought to arrest you."

"Let's just get him to St. Mungo's," said Ginny quickly, trying to dispel the tension in the room.

Hermione nodded, and she and Ginny dragged Draco to the Floo where they could get him to St. Mungo's right away.


	10. Chapter 10

When Draco let his eyes ease open, he was blinded by the brightness of the room. He let out a groan. Every muscle in his body ached. He felt like he couldn't even lift his arm.

"Malfoy!" said a voice, one he recognized immediately. "I ought to fail you for your Dragon level test right now! Unarmed and hit with a stray Incidaere?"

Draco forced a smile. It was his dueling club instructor, and once Draco was able to look around the room, he saw he was in a hospital bed. The walls were stark white and there was one portrait on the wall, an elderly witch who was knitting with her wand.

"Good to see you awake. Let me go get Granger," said his instructor, and he left the room.

What had happened? Draco struggled to remember what had led him here, but Hermione rushing into the room and wrapping her arms around him interrupted his thoughts.

"Thank God!" she said, and when he looked at her, he saw she had tears in her eyes. "Oh, God, Draco, I've been so worried! How do you feel?"

"Fine," he said, still trying to put the pieces together. "Tired."

A wonderful dinner with Hermione, brilliant sex, and . . . oh. A fight with Weasley. A fight with Weasley on Christmas Eve. Christmas!

"Have I missed Christmas?" whispered Draco.

Hermione nodded.

"It's the 26th," she whispered.

Draco felt like a hot poker had been shoved into his insides and scrambled everything about. Unbidden, he felt his throat close up.

"I've missed Scorpius. I didn't meet him for tea. Astoria will be furious," he said, and for once, he was too exhausted to clench his jaw and hold back the lone tear that escaped and rolled down his cheek. "She's never going to let me see him again."

Hermione wiped it away.

"Draco, it's all right," she said. "I talked to Astoria."

He looked at her like he'd never seen her before.

"You talked to Astoria?" he repeated.

"Yes, and let me tell you, she is not an easy person to find. I finally got hold of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who knows the Zabinis, so I was able to Floo Pansy-"

"Hermione," said Draco, still a bit choked. "My son?"

He felt her take his hand, a feeling that was warm and comforting and made him feel that things might turn out right after all.

"He'll be staying with you as soon as you feel better," said Hermione, "until the end of the holidays."

Draco had half a mind to jump up at that moment, claim he was miraculously healed, and go home to _see his son_, but as he could hardly move his fingers, he knew it would be a while. Still, the thought of having Scorpius with him, staying in the room that Draco always had set up for his son but was hardly used. And it was because of Hermione . . .

"Thank you," he said.

She leaned over him and kissed his lips.

"Did I ruin your Christmas?" asked Draco.

"No! Draco, of course you didn't. You could never ruin anything," said Hermione. "I spent most of the day with Rose and Hugo. I was able to get in touch with your parents in Venice and they stayed with you whenever I couldn't."

"My parents?" asked Draco.

Hermione nodded.

"You talked to my parents?" he said.

"They were worried," said Hermione.

"Did they say anything about our . . . about you . . ."

"No, Draco," she said, silencing him with a smile. "They asked no questions. Just sat in this room. It's like they're strangers the way they don't even talk to each other."

Draco chuckled, but the action made him grimace. She looked concerned. Someone was worried about him. Someone cared about him. It was a bit bizarre.

"Sorry you had to deal with them," he said gruffly, sweeping away his emotions. "And deal with all this on Christmas when you'd have rather been doing just about anything else."

"Stop. It wasn't the best Christmas I've ever had, but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat," said Hermione. "I did it because I lo-"

Hermione froze. She took a quick breath, chuckled a bit, and looked at her hands. Draco felt his breath quicken at her almost-confession. Half of him was terrified and wanted to shove her away, build up the walls around his heart and keep anyone who might hurt him _out_. Nothing like this ever ended well for him. But the other half of him wanted her to continue that thought, to just say it, damn it, so that he could say it back. A very strange feeling began to bubble up in his chest. Must be leftover from the curse that Weasley-

"Weasley!" snapped Draco.

The emotional moment was over suddenly, and Hermione looked stunned for a moment. The feeling in Draco's chest was immediately replaced with anger.

"Where the hell is he?" Draco said.

"He's . . . he's at the Burrow," replied Hermione nervously.

"Why the hell is he not in prison?" roared Draco, even though the exertion was hurting his chest. "He blatantly and purposefully attacked me with Dark Magic!"

"Draco, you can't understand what it was like. Harry was torn apart. He knew he ought to arrest him but-"

"Ah, so a friendship with Harry Potter does have its benefits, doesn't it?" said Draco scathingly.

"I don't want the father of my children shut up in Azkaban!" said Hermione, her voice shrill.

"_My_ father was thrown in Azkaban, and do you know what, Hermione? He deserved every day of his sentence," shouted Draco. "But I suppose when you're best mates with Harry fucking Potter, you're above us mortals and don't have to worry about the consequences of hitting an unarmed man with an Incidaere curse!"

"Draco, I-" stammered Hermione. "I don't even know what to say."

"You're just protecting him, like everyone will. No one cares when a Malfoy gets his due," spat Draco. "Attack us all you want with Dark Magic. We deserve it."

"That's not fair!" she cried.

"Just go," he said angrily.

Hermione stood and pulled away from him like she'd been burned. Her expression was torn between anger and pain. Draco couldn't stand to see her hurting, to know that his outburst had done it. He should apologize, he should tell her he didn't mean it.

"GO!" he yelled.

She turned on her heel and fled.

Ah, now there was the Draco Malfoy he knew. He'd almost forgotten himself with her, letting her touch him, kiss him, hold him, treat him like a human being. For Merlin's sake, she'd almost said she loved him! Draco sat in his hospital bed bubbling with anger.

And fear.

"That was a bit of an overreaction, wasn't it?" asked the elderly witch in the portrait.

The pain from his outburst hit him all of a sudden, both physically and emotionally. He felt like his body had just been put through a wringer. His chest was tight and his muscles were aching. He felt like his heart had just been run over by a truck, and the worst part of that was the fact that he knew he'd brought this pain on all by himself. She'd been there for him! She had tracked down his ex-wife through Merlin knows how many former Slytherin students to make sure Draco got a chance to see his son. She'd contacted his parents! Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, who made absolutely no effort to hide the fact that they still thought Mudbloods were scum. She'd sat with him on Christmas Day when she should have been home with her children.

She loved him, and he'd just thrown her out of the hospital room where she'd spent who knows how many hours by his side.

Draco called for the nurse.

"Think you could give me a potion to knock me out again?" he croaked.

She looked at him strangely.

"It hurts," was his only explanation.

((()))

After the fight, Hermione found herself drifting somewhat absently through the holiday. The kids were staying with her for the remainder of the holidays, and she loved being around them. Rose wanted to show off all her new knowledge and begged her mother to quiz her on the medicinal uses of plants in their herbology class and the properties of potions ingredients, a request Hermione dutifully fulfilled. She was filled with happiness to see that her daughter was so much like her.

And Hugo. Merlin, did she love Hugo. He was his father made over in every facial expression and action. He would groan and roll his eyes once he thought Rose and Hermione had spent too long discussing academics, so they would all take a break, go outside, and try to spot Nargles. Hugo always "saw" them, making Rose scoff in disbelief, though Hermione always told her to be more open-minded.

Time with her children was so much different when she wasn't dealing with Ron, fighting with Ron, yelling at Ron. The divorce had been the right decision. Rose and Hugo seemed so much more relaxed as well. And yet, even with the peaceful and relaxing time she was enjoying with her children, her thoughts couldn't help but stray to Draco. It had been two weeks since she had heard from him, since he kicked her out of his hospital room. The kids would be back at Hogwarts in just a few days, and what then?

Hermione didn't know. She didn't like to think about what was happening in their relationship. Relationship! She had a relationship with Draco Malfoy! Or at least, she did. Now she wasn't sure what to think.

Thoughts about him felt bitter now. In their flirting and kissing and brilliant sex, she'd almost been able to forget that it was Malfoy. She should have expected this all along. Besides, she didn't really love him. It was only three months! People didn't fall in love in three months. She and Draco had just burned too hot too fast and flamed out. It had been a fling, a rebound, and she was glad it was over so she could move on.

But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of that, she still ran her hands down her body in the shower and wished that they were his. She could still smell him on her comforter and she was still finding dishes that he'd put back in the wrong place. Whenever Rose or Hugo would catch her daydreaming, she would brush them off and say she was thinking about how lonely the house would be after they went back to Hogwarts.

((()))

Astoria dropped Scorpius off at his house on the 28th of December. Draco wasn't really fully healed, if he was being honest with himself, but the desire to see Scorpius before he went back to Hogwarts was too great to let a minor thing like breathing get in the way.

"So," said Astoria as Scorpius went to put his things away in his bedroom.

"So?" replied Draco.

Astoria's face was set in a bit of a sneer.

"Who was that woman?"

"What woman?" asked Draco, though he knew exactly which woman Astoria was talking about.

"I get a Patronus on Christmas Day at 4 o' clock in the morning saying you're in the hospital. A Patronus from a woman. A woman named Hermione Granger?" Astoria asked.

Draco knew that Astoria was perfectly aware of who Hermione Granger was. There were few witches and wizards in the United Kingdom who weren't, but she was playing dumb with that superior sneer on her face so that he would have to say it.

"Yea," he said. "What of it?"

"Why did this Hermione Granger know where you were in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve?" she asked.

At the thought of Hermione, Draco felt a confidence that he hadn't been able to summon in Astoria's presence since long before their divorce. He gave her a sharp look, his features set in a scowl that made Astoria cower, but just barely.

"That," said Draco, "is absolutely none of your business."

Her affronted expression was his reward. Astoria brushed passed him, heading for Scorpius's room, and he let her go. But the truth behind that confidence was that he was absolutely terrified. Hermione Granger wasn't the type of girl who dated Draco Malfoy, and rightly so. He glanced down at the Dark Mark on his arm. He was terrified that he'd only had one shot to get it right with her, and he'd royally mucked that up when he'd shouted at her in the hospital room at St. Mungo's. Draco was terrified he would never get her back, never feel her in his arms, never have the touch of her lips against his.

And that self-loathing, cynical part of his brain kicked in. _Serves you right, Malfoy_.

He heard Scorpius coming down the hall and shook his head. The look on Astoria's face gave him pause. His chest constricted and he feared she was about to take away the visitation, but she merely kissed Scorpius on top of his head (making him squirm in embarrassment) and walked out the front door. He could hear the pop of her Disapparation. The room was silent for a moment before Draco finally spoke.

"Well, what shall we do?" Draco asked his son.

"Er," began Scorpius. "You don't happen to have any presents for me, have you?"

Draco laughed and summoned the Christmas gifts from the closet. He gave Scorpius an enormous hug, despite his son's protests. And even though Draco felt content and happy at his flat with Scorpius, he found that his mind couldn't help but wander to Hermione now and then, imagining what she would say if she saw the real honest-to-goodness Nimbus Windracer he'd bought for his twelve year old son.

"Wow, Dad!" said Scorpius. "The Gryffindors are going to lose their minds when they see this!"

Draco grinned. He hoped so.

Pansy stopped by on New Year's Eve with her oldest son, and after Clive had disappeared into Scorpius's room with him, Draco poured a glass of champagne for them both.

"Going to get me drunk and steal a New Year's kiss?" asked Pansy with a deliberate smirk.

Draco couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, though it made him wince a bit as he was still recovering from his stay in St. Mungo's.

"Wouldn't your husband be better suited for that duty?" he replied with a raised eyebrow.

Pansy just waved a hand at him. Draco supposed it was a credit to their marriage that Pansy was allowed to come over unescorted every New Year's Eve for a drink, although Draco had to admit that, even to a Manticore level fighter, Blaise Zabini was not the sort of man one wanted to cross.

"What about you?" asked Pansy. "No Mudblood here to help you ring in the New Year?"

Draco felt his eyebrows tighten and his head snapped up. He was about to tell her exactly where she could shove it if she intended to keep dropping slurs like that when he saw her face and realized he'd just given her exactly what she wanted. Pansy had a haughty, superior expression as she took a prim sip of champagne.

"She's not here?" said Pansy.

"She's not here," answered Draco, his expression hardened and refusing her any hint of the emotions bubbling underneath.

Pansy's eyes searched him.

"You know I talked to her, right?" Pansy said.

Draco didn't respond, his jaw was set firmly.

"She was really worried about you, Draco."

He sipped champagne in silence, brooding over the events at Christmas. He almost felt he'd rather talk about Scorpius than about Hermione this time. After all, Scorpius was now happily enjoying a holiday at Draco's flat, and Hermione was decidedly not.

"I think she loves you."

"That's enough, Pansy," he snapped.

Her eyes continued to search him, and he purposefully threw up his mental defenses in case she was considering Legilimens. Her face fell a bit when she noticed the slight darkening of his eyes as they became expressionless and cool.

"Occlumency? Do you trust me so little? You know I wouldn't," said Pansy, her tone betraying the hurt she felt.

"I know," he said contritely.

After a moment's pause, Pansy spoke again.

"You love her, too."

Draco glanced up at her.

"You said you wouldn't," he said.

"I didn't have to. I never do."


	11. Chapter 11

It was time to return the children to Hogwarts, and Hermione found herself almost in tears as they headed to King's Cross Station. Her son even offered to stay home with her, so typical of sweet Hugo. She had laughed and told him she thought she would survive. Now they were at Platform 9 ¾ and she couldn't imagine what she was going to do without them.

"James!" cried Hugo as he rushed to meet his cousin.

Ginny and Harry greeted Hermione, Ginny's eyes seemed to search her for what was hidden behind her calm and happy façade. They all kissed the children and let them clamber aboard the train for their spring term at Hogwarts.

Hermione's eyes unwittingly scanned the platform, and though she tried to convince herself that she wasn't looking for anyone in particular, her breath stopped in her throat when she caught sight of him.

He looked _happy_. He was ruffling Scorpius's hair and giving him a bear hug before he playfully shoved the boy toward the train. Scorpius was grinning ear to ear and waving goodbye to his father before catching up with a friend. Draco watched with a content expression as his son climbed aboard the train. She could see Draco's eyes follow Scorpius to try and see which compartment he would be in, and when Scorpius gave a wave out the window, Draco returned it.

"You can go now, Dad!" she heard Scorpius yell from inside the train.

Hermione laughed out loud, the sound of which caught Draco's attention. He looked at her and she felt frozen to the spot. They stood there for a moment, neither of them moving, until the train started to pull out of the station. Hermione turned to the compartment where the Weasley and Potter children were gathered and waved to them all, shouting that she loved them, which made Hugo horribly embarrassed.

After the train was gone, she looked over to Draco again and saw that he was walking in her direction.

"We'll leave you to it," said Ginny at her side, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before she and Harry Apparated away.

Draco approached Hermione, and she ignored a few strange glances in their direction. She cleared her throat.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better," he said.

They stood awkwardly.

"I've been meaning-" said Hermione, just as Draco said, "I wanted to-"

They both laughed nervously. Hermione had a few logical arguments for him, reasons why he shouldn't be mad at her for Ron's actions, explanations for Harry's decision not to arrest him, guidelines for their future relationship, if he wanted to continue it. She opened her mouth to begin her speech, but was silenced by a brief, chaste kiss. His lips on her lips. He lingered just a few inches away from her, and he stayed there for a breath before pulling away.

Draco averted his gaze, not meeting her eyes even though she desperately wanted to search his for what he was feeling. _What are you thinking?_ She wanted to ask. _Can we talk about this?_

But Draco wasn't a talking sort of man.

"I'm going to Edinburgh tomorrow," said Draco. "For the Dragon level test."

Hermione said nothing, and Draco turned to gaze at her.

"Would you like to come with me?" he asked quietly.

"I . . . I have to work," said Hermione, although her heart was pounding in her chest and begging her to go with him to Scotland.

"Let me venture a guess on something," said Draco, his eyes just a bit amused. "It's been three years since you took any vacation time."

"Wrong," said Hermione immediately.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, and she flushed.

"It's been six," she said, smiling despite herself.

The next thing she knew, Hermione had a bag packed and was meeting Draco at a small hotel in Edinburgh, stuck right in the middle of a Muggle street. Muggles just walked past the building, as it looked fairly abandoned, but when Hermione stepped inside, she found herself in a cozy but lavish entryway. A porter asked if he could take her bag, and when she agreed, he picked up her things and sat them on a contraption that looked a bit like a scale. With a tap of his wand, her bag and coat zipped through an invisible pipeline up through the ceiling and away to her room.

Hermione glanced around, not seeing Draco. She was a bit uncomfortable. They hadn't really talked much since the argument other than to arrange their meeting place and time, and Hermione was still a bit uncertain about the state of their relationship. Feeling awkward standing in the hotel lobby alone, Hermione headed for the bar, only to be surprised to see Draco already there, his platinum blonde hair unmistakable. He was staring into his drink vacantly.

Without saying a word, Hermione walked up to him, and just when she was standing directly behind him, she casually grabbed his shoulder in greeting.

Draco spun around in an instant, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her; in a flash his wand was at her neck, his breath heaving in her ear. They stood frozen in that position for just a moment before he released her.

"Granger!" he said, heaving a huge sigh.

"In the flesh," Hermione muttered, massaging her sore wrist.

"Merlin, you can't do that to a man who's one day away from a Dragon level exam," said Draco, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," snapped Hermione, now rubbing her neck. "I only had a wand jabbed into my jugular."

Hermione glared at him, but he was just smirking at her in that characteristic Malfoy way. She continued the staring contest, waiting for him to wilt under her withering stare, but he was completely unfazed.

"Hello," he said in a low drawl, the sound of which nearly made her melt.

"Hello," she replied softly.

Draco held out an arm for her to take, and she did.

((()))

Draco led her to a restaurant across the street from their hotel, an Italian place that was sandwiched between two Muggle shops. The waiter nodded, expecting their arrival, and led them to a secluded table near the back of the restaurant.

"Are you ready for the test?" Hermione asked.

"I hope so," said Draco. "It was supposed to be last week, you know. But when they heard about my . . . er . . . accident, they postponed it. There were only three other blokes taking it so I don't think it was too much trouble."

"I see," she said. "So four wizards are taking the exam?"

Draco nodded.

"And how many usually pass?"

"None," he said.

"None?"

"None," he repeated.

"Oh my," said Hermione.

Draco chuckled. It was like they were starting over, and Draco and Hermione took it slowly this time. Their fight had left them both cautious, less daring. Their conversation now had a bit less flirtation, but also quite a bit more depth.

"How was your holiday?" asked Draco after they'd had a chance to order drinks and peruse the menu.

"It was wonderful," said Hermione. "It was totally different to have the children at home without Ron there. I was really able to enjoy them. Does that make sense?"

Draco nodded thoughtfully.

"How was yours?" asked Hermione, her tone cautious.

Draco took a breath and willed himself to answer. It went against every instinct to trust her with his personal life, with his thoughts, secrets, with his heart. But if he was going to make something out of this thing with Hermione, he might have to let go a bit.

"It was fantastic," he replied. "Scorpius is such a great kid. He spent most of the holiday zooming around the flat on his new broom, much to my Great Grandfather's dismay."

Hermione looked scandalized at the idea of a child riding a broom indoors, but she seemed pleased at the same time. Perhaps she was glad he had opened up to her a bit.

"Only a few priceless artifacts were broken," mused Draco.

She laughed. They just looked at each other for a long moment before the waiter interrupted them with their appetizers.

"I don't like asparagus," said Hermione with a wrinkled nose.

"Ah, yes, but it's wrapped in bacon," said Draco, taking a bite. "And everyone loves bacon."

"It's _pancetta_," said Hermione, that old know-it-all tone coming out.

She took a bite and made a face.

"Now your pee will smell funny," Draco commented off-hand.

Hermione laughed. The conversation lilted through their meal, never really getting fiery or flirtatious, but it allowed them to get to know one another. Really get to know one another, and what circumstances of life had let them to this moment.

Draco bristled when Hermione told him of what had happened with Ron Weasley. He learned that Weasley had intended reconciliation with Hermione on Christmas Eve, but after the blow-up with Draco ruined any chance of it, he was back with his new girlfriend (Wendi with an 'i', as painful as that was)and seemed content. Weasley was also permanently suspended from active duty as an Auror.

"It was as much as Harry could do without raising too much suspicion," said Hermione with apology in her tone.

Draco steeled himself.

"I provoked him. I should have kept my mouth shut-"

"He's the one to blame, I know that."

"Yes, but if I hadn't fallen into that same old name-calling habit, it wouldn't have happened," said Draco.

"Draco, it has nothing to do with-"

"Woman!" said Draco sternly, though he had a half grin on his face. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is for a Malfoy to admit fault in _anything_?"

She smiled at him, though her expression was still haunted. The attack had clearly been devastating for Hermione, and Draco felt a strange feeling in his chest when she told him just how worried she'd been.

"You were just lying there on the ground. Your head was bleeding all over my rug and you were hardly breathing," said Hermione, and Draco was surprised to see her eyes shining with tears. "When Ginny said we'd have to take you to St. Mungo's, that she couldn't just heal you at home . . . Merlin, Draco, I was so frightened."

"Hey," he said, taking her hand across the table and brushing away all thoughts of the fight. "Takes a lot more than an irate Weasley to get me down."

She smiled at him, a genuine, caring smile that made his heart feel full of warmth, an odd and bizarre feeling for a Malfoy. It was a feeling he usually only experienced when he was with his son. And while every fibre of his being shouted at him to look away, not to meet her gaze, not to expose himself in that way, he forced himself to smile back. Just then, the waiter dropped the check on their table. Draco fished a few Galleons and Sickles from his robes and stood to offer her his hand.

They walked back to the hotel together, oblivious to the strange looks they received from Muggles who saw their wizard's robes, and Draco guided her to the second floor of the hotel.

"I got you your own room," said Draco as they arrived in the hallway.

"You did?" Hermione asked, and he believed he heard a bit of disappointment in her voice.

"Next door to mine," he said.

"Oh," she said.

It took every ounce of Draco's resolve not to drag her into his room right then and ravish her hot, naked body, but he knew it would be better to take things slowly.

"Are spectators allowed at the test tomorrow?" asked Hermione.

"Of course," said Draco with a haughty voice. "It's quite the event, you know."

Hermione smiled again, and that smile made Draco just bold enough to wrap his arms around her. One hand pressed against her lower back while the other wrapped in her curly hair. He looked into her chocolate brown eyes, which were just a bit hazy from wine and lust, and he kissed her.

Her hands snaked around his neck, and she returned the kiss with passion. Her body pressed against his in a way that made every inch of his body ache with desire. His resolve was weakening by the second, so he pulled away from her.

"I've got to get some rest," he said, panting heavily.

Hermione nodded.

"You know Quidditch players don't have sex the night before the big match," he offered as an explanation, but he practically bit off his own tongue at how stupid that sounded when it came out.

Hermione giggled. Draco couldn't help but laugh as well.

"Good night, Draco," she said, and with that, she opened the door to her room and disappeared inside.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione could tell that Draco was on edge the next morning. She met him for breakfast in the small café in the hotel lobby, but he barely touched a bite. He listened to whatever she wanted to talk about, but didn't offer much commentary of his own. She wasn't totally certain, but she would venture to say that Draco Malfoy was _nervous_. Actually nervous! That was something she didn't see from him often, if ever.

He held out his arm without a word, and she took it, feeling the squeezing sensation of Apparation the moment her fingers grazed his skin. She hesitated to let go when they arrived at their destination. His sleeves were rolled up and she'd only just realized she was holding onto his Dark Mark. Hermione released his arm and he gave her an absent kiss on her temple before joining the other fighters.

They were in an enormous arena with ceilings that were the tallest of any Hermione had ever seen, even taller than the soaring atrium in the Ministry of Magic. Draco's instructor was there, and they clasped hands briefly. She watched the instructor nod in her direction, and Draco let a small smile escape. Hermione felt a bit bubbly inside. Then, she watched Draco introduce himself to the three other candidates for the Dragon level test. One was an older man, probably in his mid fifties, with greying hair and a strong build. The second was a wiry blonde, though next to Draco the man's hair looked practically brown, with shifty eyes. The third was a black-haired man with a cocky but friendly smile, a man who reminded Hermione very much of Sirius Black. She was surprised to see a fading Dark Mark on the third man's arm, and she noticed that Draco spent a bit longer chatting with him.

A tall, imposing man with dark skin and hair walked up to the group. The man took his wand out of his robes, and Hermione could see its dragon engraving. Even Draco's instructor didn't have that. Hermione was already impressed. The group talked quietly for a few minutes, and then Draco turned and headed back in her direction.

"I've drawn fourth," said Draco as they made their way to the spectators' benches.

"That's good, right?"

"It's very bad," replied Draco, shaking his head. "The tests get progressively more difficult. They don't want you to watch everyone else and figure out what's coming."

The first man, the older candidate, disappeared into a back room. Hermione watched as the dark skinned man joined three other wizards and one witch. They encircled the room and grasped their wands, and Hermione noticed a dragon engraving on each.

"They do the judging," said Draco, nodding in their direction. "And make sure things don't get out of hand."

Hermione looked at Draco, suddenly feeling quite concerned.

"These tests aren't for play or pretend," continued Draco. "Once, a Dragon level candidate faced a live dragon. Sort of a pun, right?"

"Like Harry did in Fourth year?"

Draco scoffed.

"Nesting mothers," he said with disdain. "Those were child's play. For this test, they brought in a young male Vipertooth during mating season. The candidate got bitten and spent six months in St. Mungo's due to the venom."

Hermione blanched. Just then, she felt a strange tingle and noticed that the Dragon level wizards and witch were casting protective spells over the audience. The room filled with fog and she saw the first candidate step out, wand ready and poised in a perfect fighting position.

The test moved extremely quickly, and it made the Tri-Wizard tournament look like a petting zoo. The candidate first faced six boggarts at once, but it was only after casting multiple spells that they realized the sixth boggart was a real spitting cobra the size of a full grown horse. The man was almost hit in the face with venom, making the entire audience gasp, but was able to stun the snake with a series of spells that he aimed underneath the snake's thick scales. There were also magical trip-wires that sent curses at the man, and part of his test was to locate each trip-wire and disable it.

"How many are there?" Hermione asked.

"No idea," said Draco. "And it's unlikely they told him either, but that light there should illuminate when they're all gone."

The man was extremely good. At one point, he was ambushed by four Manticore level wizards at once and after a feverish duel, the four wizards lay stunned on the ground. The man continued on with the test while medics immediately worked on reviving the stunned wizards.

It took almost an hour, but when the candidate used a complex curse-breaking spell to disarm a trip-wire, the light illuminated. The candidate visibly relaxed, knowing his trial was finished. Draco was tense beside her. The man headed back for the door, the finish line.

Just then, he stepped over another trip-wire and a bright jet of red light hit the man square in the chest. He collapsed immediately, the room lit up and the fog cleared, and the medics and Dragon level wizards all rushed to the candidate to make sure he was all right.

"That's not fair!" cried Hermione. "The light was illuminated! The test was over!"

"The test is never over," said Draco with a smirk. "A Dragon level master _never_ lets his guard down."

"But that was a cheap shot!"

"They'll pull any cheap shot they can," said Draco. "We've all been warned. This exam is intended to push the candidates as close to breaking as possible, and whoever is still standing at the end gets the honor of the Dragon engraving."

"What happens if you fail?" she asked.

Draco shrugged.

"You're a Manticore level fighter forever," he said. "Nothing to laugh at. Our club leader is Manticore. It's an extremely difficult level to achieve."

"You can't have another chance?" she asked.

Draco shook his head.

The second candidate's test lasted much less time. The shifty blonde was facing two dozen witches and wizards on broomsticks while he was standing on the ground. His feet had gotten trapped early on by a Devil's Snare, but he did surprisingly well holding the flying attackers at bay.

"He's focusing too much on the attackers in the air," said Draco quietly.

Draco was right. It only took one wizard on the ground to walk up behind the candidate with a Stunning spell, and the test was over.

The third candidate came the closest, in Hermione's uneducated opinion, to passing the test. Every move the man made reminded her so much of Sirius. His attitude was cavalier, jumping and sprinting and even laughing as he faced the obstacles in the gymnasium.

"That man is something like my 4th cousin," said Draco softly. "My mother's side."

"Oh," said Hermione. "So he's a Black?"

"Sort of," responded Draco. "Not in name."

They paused their conversation as they watched the candidate dodge a particularly nasty hex. This man was much more willing to go on the offensive than the other two had been. He seemed to believe it was better to attack first and ask questions later. Hermione watched a couple of the Dragon level judges converse while Draco's fourth cousin shot a few Stunners at hazy figures approaching him in the darkness.

"What is his name?" Hermione asked.

"Carrow," said Draco. "Richard Carrow."

Hermione made a face, horrified. Two members of the Carrow family had terrorized Hogwarts during what would have been her Seventh year. Draco looked at her, seeing her reaction.

"He's not a bad man," Draco added.

"He was a Death Eater, wasn't he?" she spat.

"So was I," he said.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Hermione took a deep breath and grasped his hand before turning her attention back to the battle. Just then, she watched as Richard Carrow sent a Dark spell at a partially hidden figure, and at that moment, the lights in the gymnasium went up and the protective spells lifted. The test was over.

"What happened?" asked Hermione, confused. Carrow was still standing, wasn't he?

"Ah," said Draco. "Look."

It turned out that the figure Carrow had cursed was a unicorn. Carrow's aggressive tactics backfired and led him to harm an innocent, not acceptable for a Dragon level fighter. The unicorn was quickly revived by a team, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Carrow looked humbled.

Finally, it was time for Draco's test. The judges called him back, and he gave her a quick kiss before disappearing into the back room. Hermione watched them reset the testing room, wondering what obstacles he would have to face.

Suddenly, she began to hear whispers all around. "_Is that Harry Potter? It looks like him. Is he taking the test? Mum, look, Harry Potter_!"

Hermione looked around, and sure enough, Harry was heading her direction. She grinned and waved. Harry plopped down next to her and she gave him a hug.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I heard Malfoy was taking the test. Thought I'd stop by to rub it in his face when he fails," said Harry with a lopsided grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped his arm.

"Besides, Ginny told me you'd come to watch," he added.

Hermione was glad to have Harry nearby. He offered to go grab a couple of drinks for them, but before she could respond, one of the Dragon level judges approached her.

((()))

Draco's heart was racing. This was why he had been training for years. He couldn't disappoint himself, his instructor, or Hermione. He gripped his wand and waited for the doors to open, and when they finally did, when the anticipation was through and the main event was here, he felt surprisingly calm.

The floor of the arena was wobbly and shaking, as if he was in a perpetual earthquake, and he learned quickly that segments of the floor decided to switch places at random. This meant that he could find himself in a heated battle with an automated spell-caster and then, without a moment's rest, be face to face with a live Manticore. A pair of centaurs was standing on a balcony above and rained arrows down on him whenever they felt he needed an extra challenge, and though he was tempted to take them out with a few spells, he had a feeling the test's punishment for that easy way out would be severe.

But Draco felt perfectly at home. Spells were effortless, he was focused and quick. Even when he lost his wand during a heated battle against twelve wizards, he was able to use many of the hand fighting techniques he'd learned from his instructor to keep his attackers occupied until he could summon it back with a wandless spell.

Everything was progressing smoothly, and although there was really no way to keep track of time while in the arena, he had a feeling the test was close to being over. As long as he could keep his focus . . .

A loud, shrill, piercing scream filled the air; the sound of a woman being tortured. Without thought or hesitation, Draco's eyes flickered over to the spectator's benches where he scanned for Hermione, but instead of seeing her seated on the front row, he saw Potter. Worry surged through him, and that moment's distraction almost cost him his Dragon level exam when a trap exploded in front of him, sending spells and shards of debris in his direction.

The woman screamed again, and this time he heard her voice.

"Please!" she shrieked. "Please stop!"

Draco felt his chest tighten. It was Hermione's voice, without a doubt. They wouldn't torture someone for the purposes of the test, would they? Logic and reason somehow seemed fuzzy while in the arena. They had said they would take any cheap shot they could . . .

But if they were seeking to distract him with the sound of her torture, they failed miserably, because he was suddenly filled with courage and resolve as he never had. Draco barreled through obstacle after obstacle in his quest to follow the direction of the screams and find her. The ground shifted beneath him and he found himself shaking off disorientation as he fired spells at two wizards in Death Eater masks. Oh, they _were_ playing dirty.

Draco continued in the direction of her screams and sobs, desperate to find her and stop them from torturing her. For a moment he considered shouting his surrender if they would only _stop_, but then he heard her voice again.

"Help me!" she sobbed.

When he had almost reached her, Draco found himself surrounded by ten witches, or perhaps only one, because each witch was identical. His task now was to determine which one was the real opponent and which were copies. Hermione's screams filled his ears and tormented him. He felt his heart rip every time she shrieked.

All ten witches were firing spells at him, leaving him with absolutely no time to do anything but defend himself. Finally, he was able to cast one spell.

"_Ostendo sum_!"

The ten witches collapsed into one, and he ran toward her, throwing a shoulder to knock her to the ground and casting a Body Bind to keep her out of the way.

The last obstacle was a door, and he could hear Hermione crying on the other side. Draco slammed his shoulder into the door three times but it didn't budge. He cast as many unlocking charms and curse breaking spells he could think of, at the same time dodging hexes from automated spell-casters and casting protective charms to keep the dangerous magical creatures away.

Fed up, exhausted, and desperate to save Hermione, Draco cast a Blasting curse at the now-weakened door.

"_Reducto_!"

The door was blown into smithereens. Draco ran inside, expecting to find a Death Eater with a Cruciatus curse on Hermione, but he just saw her there, sitting in a chair with an apologetic expression. Draco was breathing heavily.

"You passed," she said sheepishly.

Draco collapsed onto his knees. He swallowed thickly.

"Are you all right?" he said hoarsely.

Hermione nodded, biting her lip as she tried to keep herself from grinning. Draco was still panting, glancing around the room, still waiting for something or someone to jump out at him. When it seemed nothing would happen, he looked at her again.

"I passed?" he said.

Hermione's grin escaped her control and spread across her face. She nodded. Then, all of a sudden, the room filled with four wizards and one witch. Draco lifted his wand in an instant, getting to his feet in a fighting stance, but it was unnecessary. It was the team of Dragon level wizards, all smiling broadly and laughing. The dark-skinned wizard clasped his arm and congratulated him. The whole thing felt surreal. He looked back to Hermione, who suddenly leapt to her feet and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine!" she said, pulling back to look at him. She had tears in her eyes. "They made me do it, Draco! They listed all of the alternatives, vile things they could have sent after you, so I agreed. I had to sit in here and scream like I was being tortured! They said if you made it through this door, you'd have passed. I felt absolutely awful doing that to you, I know how distracting it must have been and-"

Draco silenced her with a long, passionate kiss, attacking her mouth with his and letting his tongue graze hers, not caring how many Dragon level wizards were watching. His hands were wrapped around her waist and hers were threaded through his blond hair. Draco vaguely noticed the walls of the small room lifting and the lights brightening, and he could hear the cheers of the crowd, but for just a moment, he focused on her.

When she finally pulled away from the kiss, she looked around at all the spectators and flushed. Draco saw Potter sitting on the front row with a bit of a grudging expression. Draco sent a smirk Potter's way before shaking hands with all of the Dragon level masters once again. He saw his instructor shoulder his way through the crowd.

"Malfoy!" said the instructor. "When those centaurs shot those arrows at your back as you were facing the Manticore- when that trap exploded- and when that spell caster sent an Unforgivable, are they even allowed to do that? And then they told me they were having Granger locked in a room screaming . . ."

The instructor paused, taking a breath. Draco smiled.

"Merlin, boy, there were two dozen times I thought you'd be done for," he said, clasping Draco's hand. "I'm proud of you."

"First one to pass the exam in almost a decade," added the dark-skinned wizard.

Draco nodded. Even Potter found him to shake his hand and congratulate him, and to apologize for what Hermione's screaming put him through.

"I heard them ask her to participate in your exam," said Potter. "I had flashbacks to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But those shrieks! She should go into acting. Even my stomach was turning at the sound of them."

After the crowd had died down, and dark-skinned wizard took Draco aside and asked him to take out his wand. With a murmured spell, the Manticore on Draco's wand was transformed into a dragon.

"Thank you," said Draco.

"You've earned it," said the wizard. "Now, go and take your lovely wife out to dinner."

"Oh, we're just-" Draco began, but he didn't really know _what_ they were just doing, and by the time he'd come up with an answer, the wizard had already walked away.

Draco was exhausted beyond belief. Hermione appeared at his side, and he took her hand, amazed at how easily the gesture came to him. He was ecstatic to have actually passed the Dragon level test, but mostly, he was relieved that it was over and eager to be naked and wrapped in her arms.

"I've made us reservations tonight," Hermione whispered. "Go to your room, get showered, take a nap if you'd like. I'll meet you in the hotel lobby at 8."

He nodded and watched her walk away. She gave Potter a quick hug and Disapparated.


	13. Chapter 13

When Draco reached his hotel room, he collapsed on the bed. Every part of his body was exhausted. He knew he ought to get up and take a shower, but he fell asleep before he had the chance. The next time he opened his eyes, he saw that it was past 7. He was aching from the trial and from sleeping in an incredibly awkward position. His hair was a matted mess. Draco jumped in the shower and shook off the day's exhaustion. As he dressed and got ready in the mirror, he couldn't help but glance down at his wand every few seconds to admire the new engraving.

He arrived, dressed to perfection as a Malfoy should be, in the lobby at five til 8, and he waited for Hermione to appear. When he saw her, his jaw nearly dropped open. She was dressed in a form fitting strapless red dress, a black beaded necklace almost disappearing into her cleavage, and sky high heels. She walked to him and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling the silky material of her dress under his hands and imagining the soft skin underneath.

They entered the restaurant together, Draco feeling like the most powerful man on the planet. Not only did he have the wealth of the Malfoy and Black families, but he had a dragon engraved on his wand and an amazing, intelligent, sexy, beautiful woman on his arm. He was stopped twice by people who had seen his performance in the arena earlier in the day.

"I can't believe you held it together when you heard her screams," one man said. "I would have lost it."

Draco just thanked him. Their dinner was intimate and romantic; Hermione had picked the perfect restaurant. He felt relaxed, calm, content; emotions he never felt. And time after time during their meal, he wanted to say it.

"_I love you, Hermione_."

It was on the tip of his tongue, his confidence at an all time high after passing the Dragon level exam. He could never describe how heart wrenching it had been to imagine that someone was torturing Hermione. Oh, surely, if someone had hurt Astoria, the mother of his child, he would be furious and filled with a need for vengeance. But when he thought someone was hurting _Hermione_, he had felt like his insides had been torn out of his body, and the desire to protect her had been primal and overpowering.

"_I love you, Hermione_."

It would be so easy to say. And it would be _true_. He'd never felt this way about any woman. He didn't even know what loving a woman meant. He'd always thought the polite tolerance his parents showed for each other was the extent of love between a man and a woman. But _this_. This was what inspired wizards and Muggles alike to write poems and songs.

"_I love you, Hermione_."

But no matter how confident he felt, no matter how relieved and enraptured, no matter how beautiful and serene she looked in her red strapless dress, he simply couldn't make the words come. Thirty-four years of burying his feelings, protecting his heart. Change didn't happen in a day.

"Altruism," said Hermione out of nowhere, snapping him from his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"You once said altruism doesn't exist," she said. "Yet you proved that wrong today."

"You think it was altruistic for me to come to your rescue?" he scoffed. "That's ridiculous. I wanted to win."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"So you're telling me that when you heard my blood curdling screams, the thought that went through your head was, 'Oh, I had better go stop her from being tortured to death because if I don't I'll fail the test'?"

Draco glared at her, but he couldn't help but feel the corners of his lips twitch upward.

"Very well," said Draco with a nonchalant attitude. "I cared a bit about you being tortured."

"A bit?"

"A bit," he said with a confident smile.

((()))

Hermione had never known Draco Malfoy to seem so . . . light. Since the very first day Hermione had seen him at Hogwarts, he seemed to be carrying a burden. His merciless teasing at Hogwarts had been awful at the time, but as an adult, Hermione could see that his jeers and taunts were a thinly veiled way to let off some of the pressure that rested on his own shoulders from such a young age. And ever since he was given the task to kill Dumbledore in Sixth year, Draco's eyes had been haunted.

But tonight, for the first time since she'd known him, Draco seemed relaxed, calm, and at peace. He smiled easily and even _laughed_. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard that sort of happy laughter coming from _Malfoy_. It was infectious, and Hermione found herself laughing with him.

They lingered over wine and dessert before heading back to their hotel room, pausing in front of Draco's door. Hermione didn't wait for him to speak. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, fisting her hand in his hair as she felt his roam her body. She pressed up against him, feeling his arousal growing against her belly.

"Come in?" Draco whispered hoarsely.

Hermione nodded against him. Draco led her inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and immediately peeled her out of her strapless dress. His eyes were hungry and filled with lust, and she let him worship her body, kissing and licking all the way down.

Hermione started to kick off her heels, but Draco stopped her with a sharp look.

"You leave those on," he said deviously.

She blushed a bit and giggled before helping him out of his formal robes. His body was covered in cuts, scrapes, and bruises, remnants from his trial, and Hermione ghosted over them with her fingertips before lowering herself down to her knees. Draco let out of moan when she wrapped her lips around his hard cock, and she felt a shudder tremble through his body.

"That feels so good," he groaned.

She felt his knees begin to give out as his muscles trembled and pulled away, earning a whimper from him. Hermione stood and kissed his lips, loving the feel of every inch of her naked body pressed against his. She guided him to the bed, and when he started to maneuver himself to get on top of her, she pushed him down.

"You've had a rough day," she said in a sultry whisper. "Let me take care of you."

Draco's groan was the only response she got, so Hermione straddled him, running her hands across his defined chest. She leaned over him, pressing her mouth to his and kissing him slowly as she lowered herself down onto his cock at an achingly slow pace. His hands were in her curly hair as he kissed her, moaning into her mouth. As soon as Hermione had sheathed his cock inside of her, she pulled back from his mouth, sitting upright to give him a better view.

Draco's breath was heaving and his hands roamed her body freely. He let out a growl and suddenly lifted her up, flipping her over on the bed and positioning himself between her legs in a move that would make the Dragon level masters proud. He lifted her legs up so that each foot was resting on one of his shoulders, taking the time to appreciate her red high heels.

The angle of that position made Hermione shiver with pleasure. It felt so good it almost hurt. She was whimpering and mewling as he thrust into her, he was grunting in time with their movements. Her orgasm was building in her stomach, and when he placed a thumb between her legs to graze her clit, Hermione back arched involuntarily, her body convulsing in a powerful orgasm. Draco's body shuddered and he thrust twice more before spilling himself inside her.

They remained frozen for a moment, both panting with exhaustion, before Draco rolled off of her and pulled her close to him. He kissed her forehead, wrapping both arms around her, and she snuggled against his chest. The Dark Mark on his left forearm was exposed, and she found herself tracing it absently.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"Why do you touch the Mark?" he asked again. "It's vile."

She shrugged a bit.

"It's part of you," she responded simply.

Draco craned his neck to look at her, his expression curious.

"It doesn't bother me," she added. "Draco, I know where you've come from, what you've done in the past, but all of that made you who you are today."

He grimaced.

"And you're amazing," she continued, before he could protest. "I'm so proud of you. I love you, Draco Malfoy. Dark Mark and all."

Draco looked at her like he'd never seen anything like her. Hermione's confession had slipped past her lips almost by accident, and now she found herself a bit worried at what his reaction would be. Draco sat back on the pillow, staring vacantly into the room for a moment.

"I love you, too, Hermione," said Draco, and he looked at her with grey eyes that were, for once, warm and comforting.

Hermione fell asleep in the crook of his arm. She woke once in the middle of the night to the feel of his body curved behind hers. She arched her back and wriggled against him, encouraging him to thrust his hips against hers. He reached between her legs and massaged her before slipping his hard cock into her. She whimpered quietly, both of them half asleep as they made love. Then, as the sun just began to illuminate their room in the early morning hours, they made love again, Hermione prone on her stomach and Draco holding himself up on his arms above her, sliding his cock in and out and gasping as he came into her again.

They ordered breakfast and ate fruit and eggs lazily in bed, sipping tea and sharing kisses and caresses until mid-morning, when they finally knew they needed to get back home.

With a final embrace and a long kiss, Hermione stepped into the fireplace and went home.

**Author's Note:** We've got one more chapter and then the epilogue!


	14. Chapter 14

Draco Flooed to his flat with a goofy grin on his face, eager to spend the day resting and relaxing. An entire night of lovemaking was hard on a thirty-four year old man, though he wouldn't trade the experience for any amount of sleep in the world.

However, when he stepped into the sitting room, what he saw made a distinctive wave of nausea pass through him.

"Oh, shit," grumbled Draco.

On his couch were his mother, his father, and his ex-wife.

"It's a good thing they're here!" scolded his Great Grandfather Marius. "A Mudblood! Had I known! You're disgracing the Malfoy-"

Draco stunned the portrait.

"Now, was that really necessary, Draco?" asked Lucius in his aristocratic drawl.

"All right, go on. Let's get it over with," said Draco resignedly.

His father held up the Daily Prophet, and Draco felt his stomach turn. There, on the front page of the paper, was a huge headline: "Malfoy Passes Dragon Level Fighting Test." And underneath, there was a picture: a picture of his instructor and the Dragon level masters, all clapping and cheering as they surrounded Draco, who had his arms wrapped around Hermione Granger as they exchanged a passionate kiss.

Draco scanned the article's text, a lot about the exam, a lot about the prestige, but even more about the known Former Death Eater's relationship with the War Heroine. Draco's face paled.

"We had heard whispers of this relationship," said Lucius slowly. "And when the Mudblood contacted us about your injury, I began to worry."

"And when I got her Patronus, I _knew_ something what happening. Why else would she know where you were in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve!" Astoria shrieked. "Draco, you make me sick. You were going to see your son the following afternoon, and yet you were sleeping with a _Mudblood _the night before!"

"Would you stop calling her that?" snapped Draco.

"The Draco I know would never say something like that," spat Astoria.

"Yes, well, times change," said Draco.

"Draco_, Scorpius_ gets this paper," Astoria shrieked.

That thought caused an uncomfortable twisting in Draco's gut. This was not the way he wanted Scorpius to find out that his father was dating. He could only imagine what the Slytherin house reaction would be. To find out that Scorpius's father was dating Rose and Hugo Weasley's mother? The fallout could be devastating for his son. And Hermione's children . . . their fate wouldn't be much different. To find out their mother was dating a Death Eater, and so soon after the divorce? Draco shuddered to think of it.

"Draco, we need to discuss this relationship, and if it is really the best plan for you," said his father in a measured tone. "Considering who you are, and . . . who she is."

Just when he was about to open his mouth to tell his father where exactly he could shove his opinions, the fireplace blazed up and Hermione raced out of it, Daily Prophet in hand.

"Draco! Have you seen the-" she began, but she screeched to a halt as soon as she saw her audience.

Draco took a deep breath.

"Hermione, I'm sure you remember my parents, Narcissa and Lucius," said Draco politely. "And Astoria, Scorpius's mother."

"Draco's wife," said Astoria.

"Ex-wife," corrected Draco, and Astoria scowled.

"Yes, er, we've met," stammered Hermione.

"Pleasure," said Lucius with an expression of distaste.

They all stood in Draco's sitting room eyeing each other uncomfortably. Finally, Hermione, who was ever the level-headed one, spoke.

"Listen, I'm sure you are all here to tell Draco how horrible he is for dating a Mudblood," she said, never even flinching at the word, "but I think that can wait. We need to think about how this is going to impact the children."

"My son will be horrified!" said Astoria dramatically.

"And I am not sure my son and daughter will be thrilled at the news either," continued Hermione calmly. "I'm planning to go up to Hogwarts after lunch to talk with them in private. I've already talked to Minerva. Draco, I think it would be a good idea for you to join me."

Draco couldn't help but smile. Here was a Muggleborn giving the richest pureblood wizards in Britain a lesson on class.

"Of course," he said.

"I think I should be there, too," said Astoria.

Hermione nodded reluctantly.

"And so should we," said Lucius.

"No," said Draco firmly. "These are our children, not yours."

His father looked furious for a moment, but nodded stiffly.

"We're very proud of you, son," said Narcissa, the first time she'd spoken.

His father gave Narcissa a sharp look, but his mother ignored him. She came forward and wrapped her arms around Draco's shoulders in a tentative hug, which Draco returned awkwardly. She stepped back and pushed a lock of his blond hair behind his ear.

"If this is what you want, my dearest, I'm happy for you," she said quietly.

"Narcissa!" scolded his father, and Astoria let out a sound sort of like a cat's hiss.

"Thank you," he said.

His mother backed away and attempted to give Hermione a warm smile, though her expression looked more like indigestion. Draco almost laughed. It was a start.

"So we'll meet you at Hogwarts after lunch, Astoria?" said Draco.

His ex-wife nodded. Draco's stance and expression was intended to convey that the conversation was finished, and his 'guests' got the hint. They headed for the fireplace and Flooed away, but not before he caught a few cold glares from his father and ex-wife. As soon as they were gone, Draco heaved a sigh of relief, and Hermione flew into his arms.

"God, Draco, this is going to be a disaster," she whined against his chest.

"Embarrassed of me?" joked Draco, though he could hardly muster any humor. This was supposed to be a wonderful day. The exam was over, he had passed, and most importantly, he had finally learned what it felt like to fall in love. Curse the reporters for plastering their picture all over the front page.

The Floo blazed up but no one appeared, meaning that someone without private access was attempting to call. Draco waved his wand at the fireplace to accept the call, and Harry Potter's face appeared hovering in the flames.

"Harry!" said Hermione.

"I assume you've seen the paper?" asked Potter.

They both nodded. Harry sighed.

"Ron has too," he said, and Draco stiffened. "He went on a bit of a rampage-"

"Typical," snorted Hermione.

". . .and found out about your meeting with the kids at Hogwarts," said Harry. "He's planning on going."

It was Hermione's turn to sigh now, and she nodded.

"Fair," she said.

"At first, he said he'd be bringing Wendi," said Harry, and Hermione's shriek interrupted him, though he barreled on before she could say anything. "We convinced him it was a bad idea."

"All right," she said. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry nodded and said goodbye.

"Potter," said Draco, and Harry looked at him strangely. "Thanks."

((()))

Despite the fact that she was thirty-four years old and hadn't spent any time as a Hogwarts student in almost two decades, Hermione still couldn't shake the feeling that she was in big trouble. Standing in the Headmistress's office and facing an elderly but still strong and stern Minerva McGonagall reminded her all too much of the trouble she used to get in with Harry and Ron. Ron sat on a chair in the corner, arms folded across his chest as if he, too, were afraid he was about to be expelled. Astoria sat regally in a high backed chair in front of Minerva's desk. Draco and Hermione sat together on a small sofa, his hand covering hers subtly.

"I assure you that your children have seen the morning's paper," said Minerva in a voice that was much more gravelly than Hermione remembered. "It's been quite the buzz this morning."

They all nodded. Ron looked furious, and Astoria looked disgusted.

"The children are on their way here, and I ask that, if nothing else, you all remain civil for their sakes," she added.

"I still don't know what Weasley is doing here," snapped Astoria with a sneer.

"Same thing as you!" Ron shouted back. "My kids are involved in this, too!"

"Astoria, Weasley has as much right to be here as you do," said Draco in a clipped tone.

"None of this would have ever happened if you hadn't started dating the Mudblood-"

"Ms. Greengrass!" said Minerva in an authoritative voice, standing at her desk. "It may be nearly two decades since you've been a student at my school, but that doesn't mean I won't give you a detention."

Astoria looked sufficiently abashed.

"Still, she has a point," growled Ron. "The front page of the Prophet, Hermione?"

"I had no idea there would be photographers! That test was awful, you have no idea, Ron," snapped Hermione. "And it's not as though you haven't been shagging that witch who's barely older than Rose is-"

"Children!" said Minerva, and all the adults froze as if they'd just been caught out of bounds in their 2nd year. "_Civil._"

The door to the office opened, and Hermione felt Draco remove his hand from hers. They all stood up and saw Scorpius, Rose, and Hugo file into the room, eyes wide as they saw their parents.

"Dad?" asked Scorpius.

Draco looked uncertain, as though he wanted to hug his son but wasn't sure how it would be received in such mixed company. Rose and Hugo rushed at Hermione and hugged her, then immediately hugged Ron as well before returning to their mother's side. Astoria walked to Scorpius and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I've called you here because of what you've seen in the Daily Prophet today," said Minerva. "Your parents felt they should talk to you all about it in person before too many rumors begin to circulate."

The kids looked around at their parents.

"We're so sorry you had to find out this way," said Hermione apologetically. "I know how uncomfortable it must be to have your parents plastered all over the front page-"

"Kissing!" said Hugo with an icky face.

Draco chuckled.

"We should have been more discreet," said Hermione. "And we should have come to you first."

"We don't want you to have any problems within your houses," added Draco. "I know that the Gryffindors and Slytherins have never exactly been on friendly terms, and this kind of thing can exacerbate the problem."

"We were all something of enemies when we were at Hogwarts," Ron interjected, and Hermione looked at him strangely, "but we've put all that behind us. I hope you guys can, too."

Hermione glanced at Ron, her lips quirking into a confused smile, and they exchanged a look that seemed to indicate they could put all the nastiness of the divorce behind them and move on. Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but Scorpius interrupted him.

"Dad, it's okay," he said. "We don't care."

All the adults looked at each other.

"You don't?" asked Draco.

Scorpius shrugged.

"I mean, it's kind of gross," he said, making a face. "You were _kissing _Rose's _mum_."

Draco laughed, and Hermione felt her face flush.

"But it's no big deal," said Scorpius. "Rose and I are friends."

Rose was nodding in agreement. Leave it to the children to be more mature about the situation than the adults could ever be.

"Hugo?" asked Hermione gently.

"Does this mean Scorpius is my brother?" he asked.

Astoria gasped and put a hand dramatically over her heart.

"As if Draco Malfoy would ever marry a Mudblood!" she cried.

"MUM!" snapped Scorpius, his face suddenly looking very Malfoy-like. "That is a vile, rotten word."

Hermione suddenly felt pride bubble up in her chest. Draco Malfoy may have done plenty of things wrong in his life, but with his son, he had sure done something right. She wanted desperately to rush to Scorpius and hug him tightly, but she restrained herself. That sort of thing could come in time.

"Hugo, no one is getting married. Not any time soon," she said, and suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. She glanced at Draco and he was just smiling calmly.

Hugo nodded. The children all seemed perfectly at ease with the situation.

"Well, if there are no more questions," said Minerva cautiously, "you three can all head back to your common rooms."

There was a shuffle as all the kids said goodbye to their parents. Rose and Hugo both hugged Ron, who lifted them up and spun them once, kissing the tops of their heads. Then, they came to Hermione and hugged her.

"You sure you're all right with this?" she asked them quietly.

"It's fine, Mum," said Rose with a smile that showed wisdom far beyond her years. "You seem really happy."

"I love you," said Hermione.

They both whispered it in her ear before pulling away. Then, Hermione looked down and saw that Scorpius Malfoy was standing in front of her, his hand extended for a handshake. Hermione fought to keep from giggling, keeping her face serious and professional and she shook his hand. In that moment, he looked _so_ like his father. The kids disappeared from the office, Rose and Scorpius with their heads together conspiratorially. Hermione turned back to the adults in the room.

"That went quite well," said Minerva, letting out a breath. "I'll keep an eye out for any trouble among the houses. If there's anything you should know, I'll be sure to tell you."

"Thank you, Minerva," said Hermione.

Her old teacher smiled warmly. Ron left first via Floo, followed by Astoria. Draco was about to step into the fireplace when Minerva spoke.

"Dragon level?" she asked.

Draco nodded with a bit of a superior smirk.

"Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is retiring this year," said Minerva. "We could use a replacement."

Draco and Hermione glanced at each other with surprise. Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"Take your time, Mister Malfoy," she said. "But please do give it some thought."

He nodded and gave Hermione a quick smile before he disappeared into the green flames.

"Miss Granger?" said Minerva, and Hermione turned to see the old witch smiling gently. "I'm quite proud of you."

Hermione flushed, unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face. She waved goodbye and Flooed to Draco's flat, where he was waiting with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"I know it's a bit early in the day," said Draco, "but it seems we've got something to celebrate."

He popped the cork on the champagne and poured them each a glass. Draco pressed up against her, wrapping one arm around her back and using the other to clink his glass against hers.

"To beginnings?" he asked, kissing her lightly on the lips.

"To happily ever afters," she replied.


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue – Four Years Later**

"Remind me why we're going to this again?" grumbled Draco as Hermione fussed with his tie.

She fixed him with a glare and ignored him.

"Wendi Weasley," said Draco, wrinkling up his nose in distaste. "The poor woman."

"Stop it," admonished Hermione with a half-hearted slap.

They were all waiting in a small line as guests to Ron Weasley's wedding were being seated in the small garden behind the Burrow. It was just a handful close friends and family, nothing big or fancy. Most second weddings end up being low-key after all. Hermione and Draco's wedding had only had two dozen guests. They reached the usher, who looked to his seating chart.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," he said, scanning the list. "This way."

They began to follow, but Hermione turned.

"Scorpius!" she called, and her stepson reluctantly stepped away from the young and attractive waitress with whom he had been flirting.

Hermione was filled every day with happiness and pride at her stepson. After she and Draco had married, the courts became a bit more lenient with custody arrangements for Draco's son. It seemed that having a War Heroine as a wife gave Draco much more credibility as a reformed Death Eater. That and the fact that Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy had royally stuck her foot in her mouth when, in front of the entire Wizengamot, she complained that she was concerned about the influence a Mudblood might have on her son.

After that, they had quickly granted Draco and Hermione custody of Scorpius for the first half of every summer and the second half of every winter.

Scorpius had become a wonderful young man. He would be starting his last year at Hogwarts this year; Hermione couldn't even believe that he and Rose were almost finished with school. She loved her stepson as much as she loved her own children. He was an ambitious student, a hard worker.

And an excellent big brother.

"Leo!" cried Molly Weasley, rushing to pick up the nearly two-year-old who was toddling after Hermione. "Come see your Nana Weasley!"

"Nana Easy!" babbled Leo.

"I hope you don't mind that I think of him as one of my own," said Molly, smiling broadly at Draco.

"Of course not," Draco said with an easy smile. Those smiles had come much more frequently since he and Hermione had married, and since Leo's birth, they were an everyday occurrence.

Hermione spotted Rose and Hugo sitting at a table with the Potters, and they came quickly to chat with her.

"You look beautiful, Rose," said Hermione.

"Thanks," said Rose with a grin.

"Where's Daniel?" asked Hermione.

"Ah, yes. Daniel Wood. Where is the bloke? I haven't brandished my menacing wand in his face enough recently," said Draco, his eyes narrowed.

Rose rolled her eyes.

"Dan!" she called.

A young man with sandy colored hair trotted up to them, the spitting image of his father. He placed an arm around Rose's waist.

"Hello, Daniel," said Hermione with a smile.

Draco just scowled at him sternly, glaring at the arm resting around Rose's middle, and Hermione noticed Scorpius with a scowl that matched his father's perfectly.

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy. Professor Malfoy," said the young man, nodding to them both.

"How's your father?" she asked.

"Fine," said Daniel. "A bit bored now that he's finally retired. He's thinking of getting into coaching."

"He'd be great at that," said Hermione.

Music struck up and Rose ran off to join the wedding party. Daniel returned to his seat at a table nearby.

"You should go easy on him," said Hermione. "He's a good kid."

"You shouldn't go easy on him, Dad," spat Scorpius. "You shouldn't go easy on anyone who comes sniffing after my sister."

"I'm going to have to agree with Scorpius on this one," said Draco firmly.

Hermione huffed in frustration. Malfoy men could be intolerable.

Draco, Hermione, and Scorpius took their seats, Leo squirming in Hermione's lap until Scorpius offered to take him to the side garden to play. Hermione smiled warmly as she watched Scorpius carry his baby brother on his shoulders off to where he wouldn't be such a distraction. She felt Draco's hand grasp hers and looked into his grey eyes. He planted a quick kiss on her forehead before the processional began.

Rose and Hugo were perfectly poised as the bridesmaid and groomsman, and Hermione had to be honest: Ron looked far happier and more relaxed than he had on the day that _she_ had married him. Wendi with an 'i' had become a fixture at Weasley events over the years, and Hermione was actually quite happy that they were finally getting married.

After the ceremony, Hermione grabbed a drink and relieved dutiful Scorpius from his task of caring for Leo. Scorpius didn't mind: he had used his toddler brother to score a bit of attention from the pretty waitress, and now he was flirting with her in earnest.

"How are things?" asked Harry suddenly, and Hermione realized he'd plopped down at their table.

"Harry," she said. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

Leo reached for Harry, and his godfather obliged, letting the little one grab his glasses and try to put them on.

"You two gonna have any more of these?"

"NO!" shouted Draco and Hermione at the same time, causing a few odd looks in their direction.

They laughed.

"Merlin, if I had another one, I'd be nearly sixty before he was done with Hogwarts," said Draco. "_Sixty_!"

Hermione was chuckling when she noticed Draco glance behind her shoulder and stiffen.

"I'm just going to grab a drink," said Draco, standing abruptly from the table.

Hermione turned and saw Ron heading her direction. She let out a small sigh, wondering if her husband and her ex-husband would ever move beyond mere grudging tolerance. With all the negative history and bad blood there, she was not particular hopeful. Yet, she was relieved that the two men could be in the same room together at least.

"Hey," said Ron. "Glad you could make it."

"Thanks, we're glad to be here," offered Hermione.

Ron gazed over at Leo, who was still playing with Harry's glasses, and gave the toddler a warm smile, one that Leo happily returned. Hermione found herself smiling as well. For all Ron's faults, he truly was wonderful with children.

"Listen, I . . ." began Ron, eyes darting back and forth between Harry and Hermione. "Er. . ."

"Oh, I think Ginny wants me to bring Leo over to her," said Harry quickly, though Ginny was nowhere in sight.

He stood and disappeared with Hermione's youngest son. Hermione and Ron were left awkwardly alone.

"Hermione, you know, I never really planned for everything to work out this way," said Ron contritely. "When I met Wendi-"

"Ron, you don't have to say this," she interrupted. "In retrospect, I can't really blame you. Our marriage was miserable."

Ron chuckled.

"It was, wasn't it?" he said.

Hermione's lips were quirked into a smile.

"I think we've always been better off as just friends," she offered.

"Yea," said Ron, nodding. "Friends."

Wendi Weasley appeared at her new husband's side, beaming and totally oblivious to the moment she'd just interrupted.

"Thanks so much for keeping Rose and Hugo while we're on our honeymoon, Hermione," said Wendi in a bubbly voice.

"Of course," said Hermione, rising from her seat. "It's never any trouble. Congratulations, you two."

Wendi and Ron thanked her and moved on, and Hermione's eyes searched the small crowd for her husband. She spied his blonde head near the bar, gazing at something intently with a curious, amused expression on his face. Hermione made her way to his side, snaking a hand around him and resting her head on his broad shoulder, peering off in the direction he was staring.

"What is-"

"Shh," said Draco. "He's about to kiss her."

Sure enough, Hermione's handsome stepson was leaning into the pretty waitress in a secluded alcove, every fibre of his body oozing Malfoy charm. Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped Draco halfheartedly.

"Come on, quit spying," she said.

"Just making sure he's got the technique right," said Draco with a grin.

"Oh, and you're the expert?" said Hermione teasingly. "It's been about five years since you seduced a woman."

"I'd say it's been about 12 hours," said Draco, waggling his eyebrows at her, and Hermione felt her cheeks redden a bit as she fought the smile that was threatening to take over her expression. "But if you need a reminder . . ."

He wrapped his arms around her and brought his lips to hers for a kiss that was just a bit too passionate for a wedding reception. Hermione felt her head twirl a bit and started to pull away, but Draco's grip around her was insistent. However, with her best self defense skills, Hermione grasped one of his wrists, plucking it away in a flash and spinning out of his reach until she had his arms satisfactorily pinned in her hands, their faces still inches from one another. Her gaze was devious. His was seductive.

"After that brilliant display of self defense . . ." Draco said, trailing off with a heated look in his eyes. "Escaping a Dragon Level Master. Commendable. Although you'll be getting your due as soon as we get home."

"That's disgusting," said a voice nearby.

Hermione glanced over to see Scorpius and the waitress headed for the dance floor, his face poised in a perfected sarcastic sneer. Hermione and Draco both laughed, untangling themselves from one another. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, eyes searching the crowd for Leo, who was playing happily with Harry and Ginny, for Rose, who was dancing with Daniel Wood, and for Hugo, who was looking rather mischievous with his Potter cousins. Feeling the quick press of Draco's lips against her head, Hermione thought she couldn't imagine a better life for herself, and she knew that things would only get better in the years to come.

**THE END.**


End file.
